Last Night's Dress
by Kiwiambrosia
Summary: Hermione and her friends go out for a night of drinking and dancing in Muggle London, away from the limelight of fame. A year after her failed relationship with Ron, her body is beginning to crave more than she can give it. Maybe that blond Muggle can help...
1. The Melting Pot

**Hey magical folk, had this running around in my brain, so here you go! My very first Dramione, also the very first smut I've ever published. Enjoy!**

 **Many thanks to the glorious Glittergrrrl005 the best Beta ever.**

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She could feel the beat of the music pumping through her chest, in her veins, the bass lines pulsing in time with her soul. Her hips swaying side to side, arms raised above her head. Glad she had decided to pin her wayward curls up tonight, keeping hair off the back of her neck as she twisted in the midst of other sweaty bodies. A little strapless maroon dress clung tightly to her figure, hiking up her thighs as she bent and moved. Dainty feet strapped in sky-scraping heels she could no longer feel pain from due to the amount of alcohol already in her system. Her hands moved downwards, smoothing provocatively over her curves as she dipped.

Whiskey-hued eyes dark with bliss while she rolled her hips in ways her fourteen year old self would have blushed and squeaked over before denying she'd _ever_ do such a lewd thing. At twenty-four, however, it was an entirely different story. She had grown up a lot in the last ten years -she tossed a wink and a flirty smile to the guy she caught watching her dance- and as Harry liked to remind her, she finally learned how to let loose and have fun. Tonight was a brilliant idea! The drinks were delicious, the music incredible, and she was having a great time! Which was evident by the grin on her face as she and her girlfriends danced together to the loud thumping music. They had all needed a night to relax, and to just _be_.

Sudden laughter came from her left as Ginny wobbled too far and almost fell over. She recovered as gracefully as she was capable in her tipsy state, and continued dancing while giggling and clinging onto Luna's arm, her face red from laughter and vodka. The blonde was holding her up and simultaneously had begun some sort of bizarre tango with the redhead. Hermione burst out laughing and had to stop dancing, both her arms shooting out to grab her friends, pulling them close to her like she urgently needed to whisper a secret.

"So, a blonde, a brunette and a redhead walk into a bar…" and then Hermione fell into a fit of giggles at her own half-joke about their respective hair colors. The other two slowly caught on, their brains a wee bit fuzzy at this point, but started giggling madly all the same. The three of them stood clutching each other laughing over the failed but _hilarious_ joke. The throng of people around them continued dancing, paying no mind to the group of three, and the air began to getting a bit stifling.

"I need a drink!" Ginny stated loudly with a happy grin, still clinging to Luna's arm like an anchor after the three of them had stopped snickering. Hermione let go, while Ginny slowly pulled Luna in the direction of the bar. Luna wasn't resisting all that heavily, a large alcohol-induced smile on her face. Big blue eyes hazy as she wavered, trying not to trip over the tall heels she'd been lent for tonight.

The two girls staggered and held each other up as a new bout of giggles began while they walked towards the bar trying not to fall. Hermione took this moment to appreciate the beautiful women swaying in front of her. She was a few drinks deep herself, she got little playful, and a tad frisky when she was deep in her cups. Though the night was young still, she was not nearly drunk enough to act on her thoughts. But she could still look and enjoy the view.

Ginny's normally creamy pale skin was a shade darker than usual, her last few games abroad and near the equator. The ginger's athletic figure was encased tightly in short but delicate- looking plum-colored lace Molly would certainly have Hippogriffs over if she could see her only daughter. With a tiny devious smile, Hermione felt a sudden surge of pride for helping pick that dress out during one of their last shopping excursions; it made Ginny's ass look fantastic.

Luna had borrowed the heels she was wearing, but where she bought that pale blue corset dress Hermione felt she _needed_ to find out; was that satin? If it was from Diagon Alley, who knew what it was made from. Wisp-cotton had a bit of a glow to it making it incredibly popular, and Acromantula silk was always in style. But the fact that it belonged to Luna meant it could be some other far more fairy-tale sounding of a creature. Xenophilius was currently somewhere in Madagascar looking for -what did she call it?- Jundr, no, Jena, wait, Jep- Jarphyuem caterpillars. Or something like that.

It was all Hermione could do right now to refrain from talking about Luna's breasts, to profess how great they looked pushed up like that. She wanted to touch them. Most of her adoration stemmed from a smidgen of jealousy, as the blonde woman was significantly more well-endowed than either she or Ginny were. Though she was sure the bi-sexual blonde would have no trouble at all with Hermione saying anything, and would most likely take it as the highest of compliments, drunk Luna was an aroused Luna. The two went hand-in-hand. While some of the other people Hermione knew had experienced a wicked night or two with the doe-eyed woman, she wasn't quite ready for a tumble with the former Ravenclaw herself. Who -if the rumours were true- was the kinky witch out of the three of them. When the two younger girls turned around arm-in-arm to check if she was coming with them to the bar, Hermione nodded enthusiastically with a smile and followed.

Once off the dance floor she visibly relaxed as the air got cooler, less smothering. Taking a deep breath to slow her quick beating heart from the dancing, she grinned excitedly at nothing in particular. This really was a _fantastic_ idea, somehow she'd have to remember to thank Ginny for this plan of hers when they were sober. Though there was hardly a doubt in her gin-infused mind that Ginny would forget tonight almost entirely; it's what usually happened. But tonight, this was the first time in nearly a year they'd all had a day off together, which had called for a celebration. With Ginny traveling all over the world playing Chaser for the HolyHead Harpies while she and Luna worked in different departments of the British Ministry of Magic, it was hard enough to get time off. Let alone a day that coincided with all their schedules so they could get together.

"Mioneeee!" Ginny latched onto her arm as soon as she reached her two friends. It was Ginny's plan to go out drinking in the Alley, get completely tanked and then go back to her place for a girls only slumber party. But it was Hermione that had suggested a Muggle dance club instead, wanting to show her best girlfriends -her only girlfriends, if she was honest- a night on the town in her world. It was an added bonus that they wouldn't be recognized here.

Ginny Potter's face was plastered all over Witches magazines, famous for her even more famous husband and her inspiring Quidditch career; she'd mentioned having done another interview for Witch Weekly during their last round of drinks. "Can we do more shots!? There are so many different choices! And I need to try them allll!" Ginny was practically bouncing at her idea, eyes bright and hopeful. Having grown up with only _Odgens finest Firewhiskey_ to nick off her parents, this was almost like being in a candy store. Knowing they were all more or less able to hold their alcohol, and just three drinks in so far she reasoned, Hermione glanced at the clock behind the bar. It was only midnight, _plenty_ of time.

"Gin, my love," She giggled at the double meaning, "have you ever heard of tequila?" Hermione had a very Slytherin-esque smirk on her face as she slung her arm around her delighted friends shoulders and caught the bartender's attention.

Luna was sitting on a bar stool beside them clapping her hands enthusiastically, glee on her face. Chanting, "Shots! Shots! Shots!"

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Sitting on her stool facing away from the bar, back resting against the hardwood, Hermione sipped away on a martini. Resting her feet, while watching Ginny and Luna dance together out in the middle of the flashing lights. The two were grinding together in ways that only occurred when alcohol was involved, both dancing unhibited, as here they were just random young women instead of Ginny Potter wife of The Chosen One, and Luna Lovegood the war heroine. Hermione had a smile eternally on her face as she surveyed the rest of the club's patrons, her cheerful mood could not be brought down right now. She was having too much of a good time.

Slowly she swayed in her seat to the music, glass grasped in her right hand. She found herself mumbling the words to the song every so often while she continued to watch the mass of bodies in the center of the room. What number was this, martini number four? Or was it five? Possibly six? Maybe? At least eight shots as far as she could remember. There was that shot of tequila she had taken while Luna and Ginny had run off to the loo. So… she was ahead of them by one shot. No, no, two shots. She'd almost forgotten about the Lemon Drop the waitress bought for her. It was her aim to get right smashed tonight, so extra drinking was approved by drunk logic. Hermione shrugged and snickered to herself. She'd developed this habit of knowing what she drank and how many. It wasn't for anything important really, just some sort of personal tally she'd try to remember come the morning after.

Either way, she needed a new drink; she pouted lightly at the empty glass. Spinning slowly around to face the bar, a tiny 'weeeee' spilling from her lips as she turned, the adorable pout flickered quickly into an amused smile. She blinked a few times, setting the empty glass down, eyes blearily searching for the bartender while her body still moved a bit in time with the music. Did she want another martini? Probably... yeah, she did. But maybe a shot first? She still had to introduce the ladies to Goldschlager. How Ginny had gone all this time married to Harry without knowing about Muggle alcohol she'd never know. Or maybe she'd just ask Harry. She made a mental note to do so when he picked them up later tonight.

Before she could make up her mind, a fresh martini slid across the bar in front of her. Her brows rose in surprise and she quickly looked up at the bartender with a question on her lips. Grabbing her empty glass he explained before she spoke, "It's from the bloke down the end." He nodded his head to the right; her eyes followed his direction and came to rest on a striking blond man sitting on a stool at the very end of the bar. The slew of people that separated them caused him to rest his elbows (oh goodness, look at those forearms) on the edges of the wood as he leaned forwards to catch her eye, confident smile on his face. His gaze was a shocking blue that reminded her of Luna's corset dress, and a small smile came to her face at the thought. That woman definitely had an excellent pair of tits, and took ample opportunity to proudly showcase them in low cut robes and dresses.

Seeing her smile in his direction, the blond stranger raised his glass to her in a silent _cheers,_ his smile having slowly turned into a grin. It seemed to light up his face. Soft but angular features, pale unblemished skin. He looked to be about her age, if not a year or two older. High cheekbones and a strong looking jaw dusted in a five o'clock shadow she wanted to feel prickle against her skin. The black button up stretched across broad shoulders her fingers were itching to dance over, its sleeves rolled up halfway giving him that casual just-got-off-work look. He had an athlete's build, but trim and fit instead of bulky. Whatever he seemed to regularly play, it was a sport based on agility. She assumed he had to play some sort of sport with a body like that. The muscle definition of his biceps was tempting her towards things she wouldn't have believed herself capable of a year ago. Her brow rose at his smile, and her gaze flicked down to the drink in front of her. It was made just how she liked it. Two olives were skewered by a tiny black cocktail sword. She leaned down to sniff it -yeah, that was gin alright.

Surprised, she looked back up to the man to mouth a thank you, maybe flirt a little, only to see he wasn't there any more. He was gone; she couldn't find his face in the sea of bodies at the other end of the bar. Scrunching her brow in confusion for a moment, she shrugged it off just as quickly. Hey, free drink. ' _I wonder if I'll get in trouble for doing magic in front of muggles... check to see if it's been drugged..._ ' She pondered, internally arguing with herself about the merits of free drinks, and taking drinks from strangers.

The bartender was the one to actually give it to her, and she kinda knew him. Well, enough that he had her drink of choice ready whenever she came through the door and could greet her by name. He always told her his name, and she always failed to remember the next time she came by. She didn't think he'd be the kind of guy to give her a drugged drink. So, what the hell. She shrugged her bare shoulders gently, face smoothing back out into a happy smile as she grabbed the martini, waved her thanks at the bartender and spun back around to find her friends again in the crowd of dancers. Most of her mind, however, was still occupied with the gorgeous blond that just bought her a drink. Maybe she'd return the favor if she could find him.

Taking the first sip she let her eyes flutter closed, dark lashes brushing her cheeks. There was nothing like a well made martini, proven by the tiny moan she emitted as the gin and vermouth hit her tongue. Almost better than sex, and to be frank she'd had more gin recently than sex. Her tongue poked out to catch any remaining drops from her lips as she opened her eyes, a happy smile slowly forming.

"If I had known you enjoyed them so much, I would have built up the courage sooner." The smooth voice startled her, causing her to make a squeaking noise, and nearly spill her drink all down her front. A steady hand, warm and firm shot out quickly and wrapped itself around her own and the glass, stopping the sloshing liquid from spilling over the rim. "Careful. Wouldn't want to waste good gin." It was the blond guy from the end of the bar, and he was touching her hand, and it was making her skin feel a little tingly. His voice was low, not terribly deep but husky as he spoke. It sent electricity through her, her brain sparking and supplying naughty things he could whisper to her in that gravelly voice of his. ' _Don't blush, Hermione; you can_ _ **do**_ _this. Don't blush. Blush and it's over. You deserve to have some fun! Confidence!'_ Her inner self was shouting at her, demanding she live for once. The way he was smirking, though, sent warmth coursing through her body until it rested uncomfortably between her thighs.

He was standing mostly in her line of view, but she was still able to see the girls groping each other happily on the dance floor. Removing his hand -confident she wasn't going to spill- he stuck it in the pocket of dark grey jeans that clung to his legs and hips in just the right places. If only she could get a peek at his ass, she was almost positive it would look just as delicious as the rest of him. The other hand was holding a tumbler of whiskey, the slight swirling of his wrist making the ice cubes clink against themselves and the glass. "Besides, that is a lovely dress. Red is definitely your color." She could feel those eyes of his wander over her body as she took another sip trying not to blush into her glass. It was actually quite flattering. It had been a long time since anyone looked at her that way, so she moved her arms just right, to better show off her breasts. His smooth baritone rendered her nearly incapable of intelligent answer, not that the gin had helped in any way. So she let her mouth do the talking; brain be damned, she was _going_ to do this, she wanted to do this.

"I'm more partial to green myself, but I do have to agree." She smoothed a palm down over her waist, glanced down at her available cleavage, pleased with how the new dress fit her. "I look great." She gave him a grin before taking another sip of the martini. Inside her head she was cheering herself on, pleased with her well executed reply. "I was just thinking about you. Wanted to thank you for helping a girl out." She fiddled with the little sword a bit bringing his attention for a moment to the drink in her hand. "I couldn't decide if I wanted another one, or if I could stand to do a few more shots first. The goal of tonight is to forget who I am." Hermione leaned back against the bar, outright giving him a good once over. Hell, if he was gonna buy her a drink come over here and flirt, she was gonna check him out, turnabout was fair play. "Which means plenty more of these," She raised her glass in a small toast and took another sip. Internally she was surprised at herself, sure she had stumbled over a word or two. Or slurred at least, which was definitely not going to help her find her way into this man's bed. "Oh! And another thank you for stopping me from wrecking my dress. I'd have hated to leave before getting properly... acquainted." Her lips upturned in a delighted smile.

Her eyes wandered from the soles of expensive looking leather boots up well shaped legs. Sure she'd find well defined abs underneath that black shirt, she did her best to look with her eyes and not to reach out and touch, her free hand fiddling with the hem of her dress. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair; it looked so soft. ' _I wonder if he likes having his hair pulled...'_ The thought flashed quickly through her consciousness. Over the planes of his chest to arms that looked more than capable of throwing her over his shoulder, she let her eyes trail his body, her appreciation clear in the way she nibbled at her bottom lip, the way her thumb was absentmindedly stroking the stem of her glass, and how she shifted slightly in her seat. He was very obviously enjoying the attention, the knicker-soaking smirk still plastered to his face. If how they were acting towards each other was any sort of warning, it was going to be a passionate encounter. The heated look in those shocking blue eyes was speaking of the things he could do to her, would do to her given the chance. She was wholly invested in this idea, and was more than eager to throw her own thoughts out there.

He chuckled softly before taking a drink. "That would have been a horrible thing. You look like you're having a good time." His eyes wandered over her curves, the bare skin of her legs, up her thighs, the cut of her dress showing off what little cleavage she had. Hermione could feel her skin start to heat up in a blush from all the attention. She was used to attention sure - public speaking, having her name and pictures in the papers, flashing cameras and reporters. But this sort of attention -blatant physical attraction- had always sent her into an almost schoolgirl like flush. "I wouldn't mind becoming more acquainted at all." He replied in a way that, his intentions clear, almost caused her breath to catch. Good gods above, she didn't mind at all. The thoughts running rampant in her head were some that she had only ever fantasized about in the dead of night, and his stare was fueling that fire in her belly. About four more shots of tequila and she might just have her way with him right here on the bar.

It had been nearly two and a half years since she'd last been intimate with anyone. After a botched proposal and a long string of hurtful accusations flung her way, she and Ron had called it quits. Though both Ginny and Luna had tried to set her up on dates, they never amounted to anything more than awkwardness and miscommunication. To top it off, neither her hands nor the toys stashed in the bottom drawer of her bedside table back at her flat were doing the job properly anymore. She needed the real thing, and it was currently standing in front of her, clearly on the same page as she was. Dressed in dark colors, offering up a body sculpted by the Masters, sporting a smirk that was making her insides flutter. Like he knew exactly where this was going. His stare was both intimidating and heart-stopping. It was sparking something inside her to rise to whatever challenge his body language seemed to be issuing her. Her thoughts were circling on his head between her thighs, her fingers pulling at hair as blond as Draco Malfoys.

That thought stomped the brakes down suddenly on her train of thought, and she used most of what she had left for willpower to not stutter out that surname. Her brain gently reminding her to finish her drink, reasoning with her, that there was no way this could be Malfoy. _The Melting Pot_ was a Muggle dance club; there was no way in hell he'd ever go inside one. The war may be over, but old habits died hard. She was sure he wouldn't even know where one was, so of course this wasn't Malfoy. This was just someone who looked incredibly like him, and because of that likeness, from the roots of his white blond hair to the expensive clothing he was dressed in and the smug way he held himself, she could almost imagine that it _was_ him, and it made her shift again in her seat. Third year - that was when young Hermione had started to look at the pale and pointy boy in a whole new light. But circumstances both childish and of dire consequences led to those fantasies remaining fantasies. Her eyes were drawn to the flesh of the blond man's neck, the exposed skin was just begging to be bitten. She wondered what his muscular back would look like after her manicured nails had raked down it. In her mind's eye she could see his kiss swollen lips, his chest rising and falling as he breathed heavily over top her, his eyes dark with lust as they moved together. She nearly groaned into her martini. If there was one thing that had made being single easier, it was her overactive and creative imagination.

It was decided then, according to her inner monologue and the pictures her mind was drawing for her. She could get what she craved and be able to live out a few of her fantasies this way, even if it was only with a surprisingly good look alike instead of the real deal. A slight shiver of anticipation ran through her, making her squeeze her thighs closer together to alleviate some of the pressure. _Especially_ with that blond hair of his. Throwing caution into the wind she took a deep drink from her martini. What was this, seven or eight? "I'm having a wonderful time, out with two of my friends for a girls night, but I'm pretty sure they're going home together to surprise her husband." She shook her head, an amused smile on her face. "Love 'em all dearly, but I'm not that kind of woman. So, I'm not sure what I'm gonna do now. Our plans are kinda ruined now." She smirked, motioning her head in the direction of her friends. Hoping he'd take the hint. She was so ready for this; screw drinking until she blacked out, she was going to go with him.

His grin widened and he nearly finished his whiskey, swirling the remnants in his glass. "Would your friends mind if you skipped out on them?" he questioned before knocking back the remainder in his glass. "That is, if I'm reading this correctly." Reaching out he ran a single fingertip from her bare shoulder down her arm, and it gave her goosebumps. It was an incredible feat of strength that kept her from drooling at how close their bodies had become during their chat. How could those eyes of his be so cold, as if chiseled from a glacier, and yet hold her attention with a gaze so heated she was curious as to why she hadn't melted yet? She wondered if she'd have to taste him to find out. It was surprising, and arousing just how well he seemed to be able to speak; if it wasn't for how glazed those blue eyes were and the little swerve he did every so often, she'd think he was sober.

"I'm pleased to say you're far from illiterate." She giggled, -' _Merlin, I'm such a moron. Smooth Hermione, that's sure to have him begging for more...'_ \- trying to refrain from smacking herself in the forehead, not quite believing that dumbness actually slipped out of her mouth. Pulling the tiny sword from her drink she bit down on one of the olives, if nothing more than to stop herself from speaking again and fucking this up like she usually did.

He was still watching her, smirking again, his body language inviting her ever so politely to ride him until her legs burned. He slightly leaned across her to put his empty tumbler on the bar, and her breathing hitched, eyes widening just a bit. Her tongue froze in its prodding of the tiny sword she held between her lips. Their thighs gently brushed as he leaned in close, the roughness of his jeans on her bare skin a foreshadowing of the night ahead of them. His chest was close enough to touch her fingers itched with want. She could smell the whiskey he'd been drinking, the faint spice of cologne; it made her mouth water. It was a scent she mildly recognized from somewhere, but that thought was put immediately on hold so she could pay better attention to the way the firm muscles of his arms and chest stretched his button up shirt as he leaned over her.

She caught a smug little smirk on his face before it was gone. Once he was standing upright again, their thighs no longer touching, she could feel the full force of his attention return to her person. She couldn't quite decide if his eyes reminded her of ice, crystal blue and catching the light, or of the warring skies before a great storm: grey and tumultuous, dangerous. Wild. Her breath sped up a little as anticipation washed over her. He noticed, a wicked glint in his gaze, devouring her, promising her a release to her desires.

Exhaling the breath she was holding, she downed the rest of her martini quickly, not that there was much left of it. "I'm gonna go tell my friends that I'm leaving, and you…" She paused, leaving one olive on the sword she stuck it back in the empty martini glass, and the glass on the bar behind her. She gave him another once over before placing her hand on his chest, finally giving in to the urge to touch him. " _You_ are going to stay here," she breathed out. ' _Sweet merciful Merlin, he's like stone...'_ He caught the way her pupils dilated and how she was trying not to bite her lip again.

She hopped down from the barstool with a grace that contradicted her mostly drunken state and the six- inch red stilettos on her feet. She gave him a flirty smile. Even with the added inches of her shoes he was still nearly a foot taller than she was, though at 5'4" she wasn't all that tall to begin with. "Right here." She clarified while poking him playfully in the chest, trying not to swoon at how firm it was. She was aching to run her hands all over the rest of him; she wanted to feel skin. To feel him tense as he filled her. She was going to soak right through these knickers if she kept thinking this way. Taking a few steps towards the dance floor, she glanced over her shoulder at the guy she had just commanded to 'stay' and gave him another smile, one that she was hoping to the gods looked sultry.

Pushing her way through the mass of moving and writhing bodies, she felt a little bit calmer, more in control of her wayward libido. She no longer felt like she was going to jump the man and take him on the bar, or pull him into one of the abysmally small washrooms in the back. She'd fuck him nice and proper in private. But she was still dead set on her decision to rip his shirt open and send those buttons flying! With the music pulsing through her body like a second heartbeat the closer she got to the enormous subwoofers, she quickly found Luna and Ginny among the crowd. Still dancing, grinding their bodies together. Large drunk grins on both their faces, each looking victorious. "Ginny!" Hermione called out before she got to them, trying to get their attention. Once she realized she hadn't been heard she slinked up to surprise them, figuring they'd be too caught up in each other and the music to notice. Ginny had a thing for Beyonce. "So this is your plan! Gonna bring Luna home to Harry? Show him a good time?" she joked loudly to be heard over the music. The two girls jumped, startled, and looked around for the voice, finding Hermione with a happy grin on her face. Throwing her arms around their shoulders, she pulled them close, which earned her a happy shriek and a kiss on the cheek from both witches. They fell against each other in happy giggles the way drunk women do.

They moved off the dance floor and stopped about halfway between it and the bar. The redhead was grinning like the cat that caught the mouse. "My poor husband would never know what hit 'im. But enough about me!" She flapped her hand in front of them as if to dispel the previous conversation. "Mioneeee," she gushed with a large knowing smile on her face while she leaned her head on her friend's right shoulder. "I saw you over there! Don't get coy with me, missy!" Ginny admonished her as she opened her mouth to speak, cutting her off and continuing, "At the bar with that tall blond. Didn't get a good look at his face. But his ass…." Ginny closed her eyes and made an oddly attractive grunting sound. She removed her head from Hermione's shoulder and tightened her grip around her waist, pulling the brunette closer to her. Ginny was suddenly more excited than she'd been before, her words coming out in a rush. "Are you coming to tell me what I think you're coming to tell me? Because if you're coming to tell me wha -" Hermione put her hand over Ginny's mouth to stop her excited rant, enduring the licking that started on her palm.

"Hope that tastes good." Hermione grinned at the ginger woman, leaving her right hand covering Ginny's mouth while her left idly played with a loose strand of Luna's pin straight blonde locks. "Okay… So...um, yeah, fine." The blush she'd been trying so hard to contain spread quickly over her face. "I'm not going back home with you tonight," she told them slowly, sounding a little unsure of herself. Part of her was still in denial about the whole thing- not just the delicious man at the bar, but coming out tonight with Ginny and Luna. "I'm not dreaming, right? I'm not at the office asleep at my desk again, am I?"

From her left Luna squished her tighter in a half hug and nuzzled into her neck a little. Damn, if Luna didn't end up going back to the Potters, she was going to make someone else _very_ happy tonight; it seemed like the blonde woman was in one of her moods. Hermione removed her hand from Ginny's mouth leaving her arm hanging over the ginger's shoulders, while giving her friend a look that said _behave_. "Though, if you _are_ dreaming, doesn't it just make all the more sense to go and fuck that man into oblivion?" Luna asked in her usual dreamy-sounding voice - the same one that seemed to hint that she knew more than she let on. "If this was my dream, he'd be fucking me against the DJ booth already." Luna and Ginny slowly extracted themselves from around her. Ginny gave her a slight encouraging push forwards, and one of them grabbed her ass, causing her to jump forwards a little with a squeak similar to her earlier one. Spinning around, Hermione narrowed her eyes at both of them and threateningly shook her fist, but the huge smile on her face was indication she wasn't angry one bit about it.

"Go, woman! Be free!" Ginny yelled at her over the loud hip hop song that had started, shooing her with her hands. Luna was already swinging her hips to the beat. "I want all the dirty details tomorrow!" The ginger looked so happy for her long-time friend. Cornflower blue eyes surrounded by a generous helping of freckles scanned the area around the bar for the man Hermione was intending to leave with. She wanted a better look at him now that they were at bit closer. She was gonna be damned if she let her Hermione go home with some creeper. From what she could remember she was looking for blond hair and dark jeans- Oh, there he was, her gaze fixed on the guy standing by the bar near to where Hermione had left him. He was facing them, but chatting with one of the bar tenders. Ginny was able to see the smile on his face, but wasn't close enough to catch a definite eye color, nor was she sober enough to really pay attention to that fact for more than half a second. Those arms looked like they could be made of steel... He had a leather jacket draped over his left arm, he must have popped over to the coat room for it. "Holy mother of mag-" It was Luna's turn to clap her hand over Ginny's mouth.

"I want to know what he tastes like; bite him for me." Luna's grin was decidedly feral as she took her time looking over the blond waiting at the bar; she was just as drunk as the ginger, but much more aware of her surroundings. And she was keeping quiet! Pulling Ginny closer to her, she continued to hold her hand over the redhead's mouth. "You're going to have an eventful night, Hermione." There was a far-away smile to accompany those dreamy-eyes. "I look forward to hearing about it. And he's got blond hair, too. That's a bonus, isn't it?" Luna winked at her, and Hermione's face blossomed pink. Luna half-heartedly kicked a leg in Hermione's direction. "Go! Scream yourself hoarse; he looks fully capable." Luna leaned a little closer in the direction of the bar as if to get a better look at him. "We'll tell Harry what happened." Her tone implied that she was indeed tossing around the idea of a night with the Potters. Hermione nodded and gave them a big thumbs up, hands close to her chest, cheesy grin on her face.

As Hermione was walking away, Ginny pushed Luna's hand away from her mouth and cupped her own around her lips. "Nice ass, blondie!" she shouted over the music at the guy waiting for Hermione. His head snapped over to look in their direction and he flashed a grin their way. Ginny stuck her hand in the air and waved emphatically at him. Hermione turned and wiggled her fingers at them from over her shoulder, then gave them a little shake of her ass in response to Ginny's yelling, leaving Ginny and Luna once again clutching each other in giggles. The redhead and the blonde waved back as Hermione rejoined her new 'acquaintance' at the bar. They watched as he offered her his arm, which she took gladly, and they followed their friend's progression as she walked arm in arm with the tall blond man to the coat room for her things and then up the stairs and out of sight. Both were relieved and happy for their friend, having been in long-time agreement that their bookish, eternally stressed girlfriend needed to get laid. The _finally_ went unspoken but understood between them.

Luna was still draped around Ginny as they watched their friend leave, a tiny smirk on her face. She glanced at Ginny's face and then brushed her lips softly on the side of her neck. "You should call Harry…" she whispered in the redhead's ear. Luna could feel Ginny's heartbeat speed up, and she heard the sharp intake of breath. "Have him come take us home," she murmured, one of her hands ghosting over Ginny's hipbone and then slowly up her stomach towards her ribcage, fingertips of her other played gently with the hem of plum lace and hiked it slowly up her thigh.

"Yeah…" Ginny replied breathlessly. "Home…" She felt around for the cell phone she'd stashed in a secret pocket of Luna's dress. The blonde woman sported a victorious smirk as she was practically felt up for the small square of Muggle technology Harry had lent his wife. Tomorrow morning was going to be wonderful and probably very loud. She'd need some of that ingenious hangover powder from Neville. He somehow had cultivated the needed plants in a way that made the resulting potion taste like vanilla instead of like kissing a troll. Luna was curious how long it would take before anyone else realized that wasn't some random Muggle. She'd know Draco Malfoys ass anywhere.

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It was much cooler outside the dance club, but not cold enough that she regretted not having brought a jacket of some sort. Hermione took a deep breath of the refreshing night air as the metal door swung loudly shut behind them, effectively blocking out the thumping music, leaving them to the sounds of London at night. With the surprisingly comforting presence of her blond stranger right behind her, his hand resting on her hip, she began scanning the small crowd, searching for one more friend she had to say goodbye to before leaving.

Catching sight of him, she shot her arm straight up over the heads of the other people gathered in front the doors and waved her hand, trying to catch the attention of the bouncer, a huge smile on her face. The middle-aged man was a beast, perfectly suited to his job. Bulky, 6'4" heavily tattooed, he looked like he lived on the back of a Harley. "Have a good night, Jack!" she called out happily, the gold bangles on her wrist chiming as she waved to him. The large intimidating man grinned at her from behind a long scruffy salt and pepper beard. Bald head motioning to the hand on her hip, he winked and then waved back as he checked some poor kid's ID.

Turning away, she tucked her left arm back into the offered right of the handsome stranger she was more than eager to go home with. "Your friends inside seemed excited. I understand my ass was a topic of conversation," he commented smugly as he adjusted the coat draped over his arm, a pleased smile on his face. "Happy to be of assistance, though I hope I haven't ruined anyone's plans for the evening." She was still amazed that was he speaking this clearly, while she was nearly positive she _had_ to be slurring her words. She'd always been a sucker for a man that could use his tongue for more than just what promised to be wickedly intense oral.

Excited at the evening ahead of her and aroused more than she'd been in a while, she was hopeful that if something untoward should happen, she'd reach for the can of mace instead of her wand as both were safely snug inside the magically enhanced clutch no Muggle was capable of opening. There was no reason to have to fill out the appropriate forms for a Muggle Obliviation on a Saturday morning just for a hookup gone wrong. That was both time consuming and embarrassing, depending on the context.

"Yeah, they're ecstatic and veeeeery drunk." She drew out the word with a snicker,feeling a surge of what was probably pride, as earlier Ginny had scoffed at Hermione's insistence that tequila was dangerous. The redhead was going to regret _that_ in the morning. "We aren't able to go out together much," she explained. "They're both so concerned that I work too much, and think I need a more ' _active sex life'_." She made air quotations with her index and middle finger, the rest of her hand still holding onto her clutch purse. She just spoke, not quite thinking to filter her words; alcohol generally had that effect. "They've both offered to help me, but, well…" She made a slightly uncomfortable face. "I've only been with another girl once, and she was great. I really enjoyed it." She tried harder to control the blush that was creeping up her face again. That was a fond memory indeed.

"Those two, they're like sisters to me. Bloody gorgeous but…" Her brain seemed to catch up with her mouth; she squeaked, but to her credit kept on rolling, "but I'm _nearly_ positive that they're gonna keep each other warm tonight." She looked up at him again, reminding herself just how much this look-alike was going to give her some fantastic fuel for her lonelier nights. "As for ruined plans, I was made aware of a much better way to spend my night other than drinking the bottle of gin in my freezer, and listening to them moan each other's name later." She grinned, rubbing her thumb slowly up and down what she could reach of his bicep with her arm folded in his, Merlin she hoped that came off as seductive. "We were gonna have a sleepover." She snickered quietly.

Not having really discussed where they were going, they just started slowly walking, arms entangled as they passed little groups of patrons outside the club. Together they staggered and wobbled down the asphalt. She giggled if they went too far one way, and the click of her heels echoed in the narrow alley. He kept her steady on her feet, away from potholes and loose stones as they walked towards the street, and she simply followed along happily, her mind still painting pleasureable pictures. He, however, was quietly astounded at her ability to walk in those contraptions females called footwear. Sure, his mother wore shoes similar in height, but she had cushioning charms woven into her collection. This gorgeous brunette didn't, and for a few moments his mind concerned itself with her apparent skill and how hard walking in heels probably was. He wouldn't be able to do it; he was confident of that fact. He'd probably break his ankles! Crazy women...

They reached the main street where it was much louder; cars and buses still zipped by even though it was nearing 1:30 AM, according to his wrist watch. But the sidewalks were mostly free of other pedestrians. "We can walk to my flat from here if you want, it's not too far," he supplied while they dithered at the alley entrance. She nodded her agreement enthusiastically, smile still etched on her face, and they walked away from the busy club. She squeezed his arm, just to feel him flex again, a tiny devious smirk on her lips while she imagined those strong arms carrying her to bed. He just smiled down at her and removed her arm gently from the crook of his. A flash of confusion flew across her face before he wrapped the muscled arm she'd been appreciating around her bare shoulders to pull her in closer, tucking her into his side. Melting into his embrace, she let out a contented sigh as they kept walking.

She was concentrating on the stubble along his jaw, half paying attention to where they were actually going, but definitely eager to get wherever there was. Chanting ' _left foot, right foot, left foo-'_ in her head trying to make herself walk faster -or at least steady- she stumbled. Tripping over her own two feet, she nearly toppled to the sidewalk in a fit of inebriated giggles. They both had to stop walking altogether as he started laughing as well -at her or with her, neither was quite sure. He held her up -her cheek resting against his chest as she clutched at him- making sure she stayed on her feet. Leaning down to rest his head on top of hers they snickered together on the sidewalk out front of a closed coffee shop. The only other person around was a man across the street sitting on his front steps having a smoke.

He wasn't quite able to place a name to the enticing scent of her hair, but whatever it was he decided he liked it very much. He inhaled deeply, -' _and hopefully discreetly'_ he thought- through his nose before she pulled herself from his arms, that smile seemingly glued to her beautiful face. Grabbing one of his hands she gently tugged him forwards. "C'mon! Before I decide I want a piggy back!" She tugged again on his hand, the smile on his face widening to match her own. Though what the hell a _piggy back_ was, he had no idea. Some Muggle thing probably. This adorable brunette he was taking home with him was beginning to make his face hurt from all the smiling. Had it really been that long?

He was glad he'd made the choice to talk to her before either of them were too drunk to function, or he chickened out. They were just drunk enough to feel inhibited, but not enough that they weren't aware or comprehensive of their actions. ' _Besides,'_ he told himself, ' _she made sure to tell her friends she was leaving with me._ ' So, tightening his grasp on her hand, he followed her along, even though she had no idea where she was going. But he was willing to follow that perfect little ass of hers anywhere at this point. He watched her walk in front of him, a bounce in her step, thinking how he couldn't wait to slide between those creamy pale thighs, and what sort of sweet mewling noises would she make when she came.

Her skin looked so soft, smooth. He could hardly wait to touch the rest of her; her hand in his already had blood pumping south. She obviously didn't get a lot of sunlight-she was pale, but not sickly. He started to wonder if she had any tan lines at all beneath that tight red dress. Her legs looked strong -not overly muscled, but she definitely looked like she'd be able to give back as much as he was going to give her. Imagining the lacy knickers she was most likely wearing was making his mouth water. Muggle women had much more creative knickers than most Witches did.

She spun around while he was appreciating her ass, her mouth open as if she had planned to ask something. "So a- fuck", she muttered. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to remember her question. It was important, she knew that much. She blamed this lapse in memory on the last shot of tequila she'd had. His lips quirked up at the swear, she didn't really look the type to curse often. "I had one, and now it's gone. This doesn't usually happen to me." She pouted adorably as she complained and all he wanted to do was bite that pretty lower lip of hers. Instead he snorted out a sudden laugh as his filthy mind turned over her words.

"I didn't think that kinda thing happened to women." He smirked at her, waiting to see if she'd get it or not. When she started to snicker again, and smacked him softly in the arm, he grinned. "We're nearly there," he said, understanding her failed question about their destination. Readjusting the leather jacket he held in his left arm, he pulled her back against him, wrapping his other arm around her shoulders once more. Plans formed in his head. Opening that bottle of wine Theo gave him didn't sound like a half bad idea. She'd said she wanted to drink enough to forget who she was for tonight. He could think of a few ways to help her with that; they'd start by forgoing names. They'd both so far, been clear on exactly what this was. But he could feel it in his bones- tonight was different. It somehow felt like more than a just random hookup with a beautiful Muggle woman. Something about this girl was making him almost anxious, niggling at his brain, poking at the core of his magic. He brushed it off as her absurd likeness to a certain witch he went to school with once upon a time.

It was actually one of the things that had attracted her to him in the first place - just how much she looked like Granger. It wasn't her; of course it wasn't her. She'd never touch him with a ten foot wand, and he was almost positive she hated him. Hate probably wasn't even a strong enough word for what she felt for him. He hadn't seen her since graduation in 1999. Granger was more than likely nose deep in some ancient text at her desk wherever she worked at in the Ministry. He knew that much about her life after school. For all he knew, Granger was a Weasley now. His ridiculous crush on the former Gryffindor made him eager to give this look-alike a night to remember,even if she was just some Muggle girl from a club and not the witch that haunted his fantasies. He could almost imagine it was her. She was even wearing the colors of his former rival House, and that helped things along significantly.

One of her hands snaked around his waist and began playing with the belt loops of his jeans. Her eyes were glued to him, his face, his body. He wished that _she_ had looked at him like this doppleganger was looking at him. Like she was hungry for him.

Hardly aware that they'd begun moving again, Hermione was busy thinking about how she couldn't wait to run her hands through his white blond hair. It looked so soft. From there her mind was lost in a spiral of bruising hands and sweat slick skin until they were greeted by a doorman. So wrapped up in what was in store for her she jumped at the sound of the man's tired voice.

"Have a good evening, Sir, Miss." He nodded to them each before opening the thick glass door. Practically dragging her blond man over the threshold, Hermione had an eager smile on her face as she quickly thanked the uniformed doorman. Her blond man was grinning smugly as he was impatiently pulled past the portly man and through the admittedly gorgeous lobby towards the lifts.

Hermione was almost bouncing in place while waiting for the tall metallic doors to open for them. When they did, her hand still firmly grasping his, she pulled him in behind her with enough force that he almost stumbled. Once he was inside the rather large lift, he pulled a set of keys from his jeans and stuck a small one in the keyhole beside the word _Penthouse_ and pressed the adjoining button.

Not that she was paying any attention to what he was doing, as she had a final thought that was begging to be announced. "I like your hat!" she shouted across the empty lobby at the doorman as the doors were closing in front of her. She giggled to herself at the flash of a smile she received from the obviously tired man before it was cut off by the doors. ' _Perfect timing.'_

Expecting, and wholly welcoming the large hands he placed on her hips, the soft lips that brushed the side of her neck, she grinned at the way she was suddenly pulled backwards, flush against the firm chest she'd been admiring for the last hour or so. She let out a small sigh of contentment as those lips travelled slowly up her neck and kissed the shell of her ear, once again pleased with herself for pinning her hair up.

The lift began to move upwards. "I've been thinking about this since I laid eyes on you. Watching your body move while you danced," the blond stranger growled in her ear making her knees feel weak. "I wanted to touch you." His hands tightened their grip on her hips. Flicking her earlobe with his tongue, he reveled in her sudden intake of breath. "Taste you." His growl had turned into a deep husky whisper. She was sure she'd be a puddle on the floor if it wasn't for him holding her against his chest. Humming a pleased response she let herself sink further into his grasp.

She was able to feel more prominently the hard length pressing firmly against her ass and the small of her tailbone. _Oh_ , that was going to feel absolutely delicious… It was all hers for tonight, too. "Make me scream, blondie." Her voice came out in a low tone she was pretty sure she'd never used before, desire dripping from her words. With a tiny smirk she pushed herself back, grinding her ass against his cock. Her arms snaked behind her to grab at his belt loops and pull him closer to her while simultaneously gaining an anchor to keep her from falling.

In response he bucked forwards, a barely audible groan passing his lips. She was definitely enthusiastic, this Muggle girl he was bringing home. One of his hands inched slowly downwards from her hip, until his fingers grasped the hem of maroon fabric that clung so tightly to her curves. Dragging it up her thigh he smirked against the skin of her neck when she opened her legs just a tad wider for him. "I hope you don't have anything important to do tomorrow." He breathed in her ear. "I don't imagine walking will be an easy feat." She shivered in anticipation as his mouth hovered over her exposed neck, his breath hot against her pulse. She could feel the light scrape of teeth ready to bite down and give her the first mark of what she hoped to be many...

The lift dinged and the doors slid open on their desired floor.

Her amber eyes snapped open, mind reconnecting with her body as she came to the quick realization _they were almost there_. However, darkness greeted her, and for a moment she felt a twinge of uncertainty. Her thoughts flicked to the wand just inside the clutch in her hand as he led her a few steps into the dark. Motion-sensitive lighting turned on all around her, and her eyes widened, her jaw dropping in surprise. The lift doors definitely hadn't opened into another hallway like she'd expected, but into the most spacious, gorgeous, and frankly _expensive_ looking flat she'd ever seen. It looked like it was right out of a home decor magazine. The view of the skyline from the floor to ceiling windows alone was breath-taking.

She had little time to truly enjoy it -or really process entirely that he'd brought her to the bloody _penthouse_ of all places- before her body was pushed up against the cold mirrored surface of his front hall closet door. Faintly her ears registered the sound of the lift doors closing, but she was concentrating instead on the lips and teeth that had returned to her neck, kissing and nipping softly their way down from her pulse-point to her collar bone.

One of his hands had a grip on her hipbone holding her in place against the mirror while the other snaked its way slowly up her side, gliding over her ribcage until fingertips brushed gently over her nipple,softly at first and then firmly with more purpose. She gasped at the sensation through the material of her dress. Never before had she been more happy than in this moment that it required no bra. His solid body flush against hers trapped her against the cold glass; the resulting goosebumps on her arms and down her spine almost made her shiver. She would have commented such, but the only sound that came out of her mouth was a contented, breathy, "yesss…" as those same fingers continued to tease at her through the maroon fabric.

His lips kissed across the throat she bared for him and up the other side of her neck; his hand moved from her hip, downwards smoothing over her thigh until he hit bare skin. It slid under the hem of her short dress and his warm fingers pushed it farther up her legs. Her immediate reaction was to widen her stance just a bit like she had before, moving her legs apart to give him better access.

The second his fingertips found the damp front of her knickers, just barely, just _almost_ touching the bundle of nerves that she so wanted him to rub, her eyes fluttered closed as she groaned quietly. Her fingers loosened from their grip on the small clutch purse,and it fell to the ground at their feet. It had been far too long since anyone had touched her this way, and the anticipation was surely going to kill her. She rocked her pelvis forwards, pushing his fingers harder against her already aching core. A deep rumbling chuckle was his reply. He continued to just barely touch her, to tease her as he sucked and licked at a spot just under her jawline. Her eyes snapped open when he pulled back from her.

' _Finally,'_ her mind supplied before shutting off as his lips crashed against hers. Her eyes slid closed again as she let herself be consumed with this kiss. Their second if truth be told, but the first of tonight, and the first of many, many more. She could taste the want, the need on his lips, though she wasn't sure if that was his or hers. Wrapping her arms around his neck (which she was only tall enough to do thanks to her heels) she ran her fingers through his thick blond hair and held him to her. Their mouths moved together, breathy moans swallowed by open mouthed kisses before she thrust her tongue into his mouth and pleased sounds rumbled through them both. If only either had any idea of what was truly happening.

Pulling back, gasping for air, she caught a mischievous glint in his storm-grey eyes before the hand that had been so interested in pebbling her nipple through the dark red material quickly moved down to join its brother in hiking her tight dress up over her hips to settle at her waist. Just as fast he pulled the sheer black thong covering her down her legs to her ankles. Stepping out of them quickly, she had the half-thought to kick her heels off with them, but decided in her gin-addled mind that it'd be sexier to leave them on. With one more heated kiss and a tug of teeth on her lower lip, he took a few steps back to fully admire the view presented to him.

Hermione was standing back to the mirror, bare ass pressed against the reflective surface, legs spread apart, her dress pushed up over her hips to display her pussy to him. Once perfectly styled chestnut brown curls (thanks, Ginny) were messy from her earlier dancing and their kissing. Wisps framed her flushed face, her eyes focused on him alone. Chest heaving as she tried to steady her breath, she had an idea. ' _Two can play.'_ Smirking at him, her painted lips upturning in a way he thought was decidedly seductive, she reached up and pushed down the front of her dress. It bunched in a red stripe at her waist and she was exposed to him almost completely.

His eyes darkened at the sight before him. She couldn't remember the last time someone admired her body like he was right now. He looked ready to absolutely devour her, and it was stroking her ego in ways she only hoped he'd stroke other parts of her. Merlin, with the jut of her bare hip and the way she raised her chin in challenge, she all but said the words, _come and get me_. She looked even more like Granger when she did that. He hummed happily at the similarity, ideas forming in his head.

She watched as he slowly backed away from her in the entryway and into his front room, his attention fixated on her the entire time. He started to palm himself through his now tight-fronted jeans as he stepped away, and her amber eyes followed his every move, just as hungry for him. She bit the tip of her tongue to stem a moan at the sight of this man. Deftly she reached behind herself and managed to unzip her dress bunch with no problem, (thanking some deity for it being so effortless) and let it fall from her waist. The maroon fabric slithered over her hips, down her legs, to pool at her feet. Clad in nothing else but the golden bangles on her wrists and the deep crimson heels on her feet, she stepped from the puddle of dress and confidently stalked towards him from her spot pressing against the mirror.

Witnessing this brunette move towards him with such fire in her eyes served perfectly in making his cock harder, his jeans tighter, and his pulse quicken. The bounce of her breasts, the curve of her waist, the sway of her hips as she strode mesmerized him. Her long legs led up to the soaking crux of her thighs and behold, he was right, not a tan line in sight... _Delicious_ , and he intended to taste every inch of her skin. This was almost a dream come true; he could get lost imagining this was his little Gryffindor. He groaned as her hands connected with his chest and made quick work of the buttons that ran up the front of his black shirt. His fingers danced over her bare shoulders and skimmed down over her breasts to gently pluck her nipples.

She had to stop for a moment in her quest in getting him shirtless to moan as he continued to tease and play her. Softly he circled the pad of his thumb over one, and she gasped, the noise music to his ears, driving him on as he dipped his head to clasp his lips around her other and her gasp morphed into a moan. She pushed his now open shirt over his shoulders, down his arms and then dropped it to the floor behind him. Her hand flew up to thread through his white blonde hair as he started to swirl the tip of his tongue in small circles around her peak. Her other occupied itself between their bodies, trying to get the button of his jeans undone.

He moved faster than she drew in breath, and suddenly her other breast was receiving all the attention. He palmed the warm flesh of her breast, tongue flicking over the sensitive skin, his other hand had returned to its work of gentle pinching and pulling. The little gasps and moans she was giving him were sweeter to his ears than any cry of pleasure he'd heard before. Every time another sound passed her lips it went straight to his cock and had him straining almost painfully against his dark grey jeans.

Hermione felt like cheering her success -that was all one-handed whilst distracted, after all- as the button popped free, and the zipper quickly followed. She helped him shimmy out of his pants as much as she could without interfering with his lips and tongue. She let out a tiny drunken snort of laughter; he looked absurd with his jeans just hanging off his ass. Tightening her fingers in his hair she pulled his head back up and smashed her lips to his and tried to get him to walk backwards again.

Though the man was a stone wall of sculpted muscle, he was quite drunk and subsequently stumbled backwards. He tripped over the combination of his discarded shirt and his drooping jeans. Losing his footing, eyes shooting open wide in shock, his arms flailed out to grab onto to something -anything- and he took a floor lamp crashing with him to the ground. After making sure he hadn't broken any of his furniture, he got back to his feet from where he fell on his ass on the hardwood floor.

Running a hand through his hair, he tried to make his tumble look smooth and charming, whiskey strongly influencing his choices. It made him look, in her opinion, utterly _adorable_. She bit her lip to keep her laughter in check, but failed spectacularly when it burst forth from her lips. As she started giggling, his pale face flushed with embarrassment. He chose to ignore her gasped words of "Ass over tea kettle!" Quickly, while her eyes were closed in drunken mirth, her shoulders hunching slightly and shaking as she laughed, he kicked his boots off and managed to get his trousers off without further incident. Boxer shorts and socks followed hastily to join the growing mound of his clothes.

He seized his advantage, then, and took a couple quick strides towards her, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her against him. The smooth skin of her naked breasts, the slight poke of her hardened nipples against the bare skin of his chest, sent warmth shooting through him. He ran his hands down her body, from the slender curve of her waist to the flare of her hips. His cock twitched between them. He smirked down at her and swallowed her surprised gasp with his mouth on hers. She melted against him, into the kiss that was sending shivers down her spine.

In one swift movement, he slid his hands under her ass cheeks and picked her up with ease. She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles behind his back and circling her arms around his neck as he carried her off in what she presumed was the direction of his bedroom. It was slow going as they didn't stop their exploration of each other while he walked. Teeth on skin, nails digging into muscle, lips caressing in a fierce dance. Breathy moans followed them down the hallway. She kicked her shoes off as they went.

He prayed to the gods that none of his friends would decide tonight was a good time for an impromptu visit. Blaise had a nasty habit of passing out on the loveseat every so often, though there was a perfectly good (and bigger) couch not two feet away. Pansy, however, would drop in whenever she damn well felt like it. He loved the girl dearly -she was his sister in all but name- but this was one hookup he didn't want her interrupting. Hopefully she was in Paris or Milan or something with Millie; Blaise said he'd be out of town dealing with family matters -whatever the hell that meant for the Zabinis- for a few days. Theo was the only one that sent word ahead. So he hoped luck was on his side, and 'magically' his friends didn't decide to appear and crash what was turning out to be one of the best nights he'd ever had with a woman.

' _The champagne can wait'_ vaguely crossed his mind as he cracked open an eye to determine his surroundings, make sure he wasn't going to walk them into the side table along the wall of the hallway. Finding everything in order he continued on, kicking the half-opened door to his bedroom when they reached it. The soft lights turned on around them as he walked further into the room with the delectable Muggle woman still wrapped around his body.

She'd broken their kiss to breathe; he felt every hot breath against his face and neck. She started kissing her way down his jaw as she rubbed against him, searching for more friction to ease the growing throb between her thighs. His lower stomach was coated in her arousal. Judging the distance from where he was to the large custom-sized bed (which honestly looked like it could sleep four) he took a few more steps, hands splayed across her ass to keep her steady and against him, holding her open while his fingertips idly played with the dripping folds of her pussy. His actions were making her gasp and mewl every few seconds into his neck in quite a pleasing way.

In what was sure to be a shock, a devilish grin on his face, he ripped her from him and tossed her away from him like she weighed nothing at all. She shrieked loudly and flailed, confusion tinged with elation on her face as she flew the second it took for her to land on the soft mattress. Her hair had finally come free from its pins and fell loose around her head on the sheets. Her gaze swept hungrily over the bare skin of his chest and stomach, the well defined abdominals she wanted to run her fingers over and feel the ridges beneath her hands. Eyes wandering down to the indents contouring his hips and the cock that stood proudly between his legs nestled in short, coarse white blond curls. She grinned up at him and had opened her mouth to comment on how the carpet matched the drapes (she'd wanted to use it at least once in her life) when he was suddenly crawling up the bed towards her, and her thought process sputtered and halted.

His hands found her hips again and he pulled her body across the bed to meet him. Resting on his elbows he settled between her thighs. Fingers gripped her hip bones tightly, and she moaned in anticipation, deducing quickly his intentions. Mid-way through her moan, he licked a long wet stripe up her crease, ending with a little flick of his tongue over her clit, making her inhale sharply. The vibrations of his pleased grumble hummed through her nether region. Her hands flew to wind themselves in his white blond hair as his grip tightened almost bruisingly on her hips in response, and then he attacked her with his tongue.

She threw her head backwards on the mattress with a thump, her eyes squeezed shut as her breathing came in fast pants after her initial shriek. It was clear he was enjoying himself from the way he was groaning into her cunt between licks. She tightened her grip in his hair as he began to suckle gently on the bundle of nerves; she bucked her hips against his face, loving and hating how his hands held her down, keeping her from pushing closer to his tongue.

She moaned loudly as the tip of his tongue flicked her nub over and over with increasing speed. He moved, spreading a large hand across her lower stomach and applying an enticing pressure to keep her still, the other he drew back closer to his body. She paid it no mind, concentrating on his talented tongue, until she felt his fingers probing at her, touching her gently, unhurriedly, teasing her soaking entrance. She felt him grin into her folds as she bucked her hips more with no avail. He held her fast as her body searched for those fingers, begging him with her trembling flesh to bring them closer.

Slowly, ever so frustratingly slowly, he worked two fingers knuckle deep inside her. Cupping her pussy in his hand, delving his fingers further in, her eyes snapped open and she arched her back off the bed when he pressed firmly, curling his fingers, searching for that spot guaranteed to have her screaming. The sound that emanated from her was absolutely primal. It grabbed and pulled at something within Draco's chest, spurring him onwards. Licking broad flat strokes, he redoubled his efforts, fingers digging into, her wanting to hear those sweet sounds spill from her lips again.

She bucked wildly against the restraint of his large hand overtop her abdomen and pressed herself harder into his face and the tongue that was lapping and licking fervently at her pussy. His fingers quickly found that soft pad of flesh deep within her. " _Ooh!_ " She moaned loudly, one hand gripping his hair and the other his sheets. "There! Yes-yes-yes-fuuuuuck yeeees!" She chanted as he stroked the spot inside her that had her seeing stars behind her closed eyelids. "Eatme-eatme-eatme!" She rutted fiercely against his mouth. He rumbled appreciatively at her filthy mouth. Imagining it was Granger moaning and demanding this from him had an explosive effect as he suckled hard on her clit and fucked her furiously with his fingers.

Draco began to increase his rhythm with her rise in octave, pressing harder, deeper. Licking faster until she was screaming out her release. The delightful high-pitched keening had his hips bucking against the sheets beneath them. Hermione's back arched off the bed, her eyes screwed shut, fists balled tightly in his hair and the sheets, sharp nails dug into his scalp. Her muscles locked up, but her thighs trembled oh so sweetly as she came around his fingers, against his face in a flood of pleasure. He lapped at her gently, helping her ride out the tide of her orgasm. Lifting his head from between her thighs he looked up at her, a cocky smirk on his damp lips. "You did tell me to make you scream." He gave her one last swipe of his tongue, watching her jerk underneath him, her nub still sensitive from his attention.

"Yeah, well-" She was panting a bit, still coming down from the high of her orgasm. He raised himself up from his elbows to settle on his knees. Sitting back on his calves between her still quivering thighs, he eyed her heaving upper body, focusing on the rise and fall of her breasts. Her amber eyes were dark with want, voice husky with satisfaction. Hermione dragged her hands slowly over the creamy skin of her pert breasts, softly touching her nipples as she maintained eye contact with him. "Bet you can't fuck me 'til we pass out." She challenged him with a throaty moan, her forefingers and thumbs rolling and pinching the dusky pink buds. Sliding one of her hands down over her ribs, to the flushed skin of her belly, she opened her legs wider. Crooking a finger at him she invited him closer, her fingers hovering over her pussy.

Watching her touch herself, laying post-orgasm, chestnut curls a wild halo framing her head on the sheets of _his_ bed had him groaning. He grasped himself firmly and began to lazily stroke his erection, causing her gaze to snap quickly to his hand. Mouth dropping open slightly, she licked and bit at her bottom lip and watched his hand move over the silky skin.

He'd been with Muggle women before; he knew that they were generally on some sort of pill. To be honest, he'd much prefer a contraceptive charm but he didn't feel like breaking the Statute just to refrain from producing Malfoy bastards. He could feel the intense heat of her gaze while he rolled on the thin latex as she used every inch of her skin to call to him, hands roaming over her body.

He shuffled closer, leaning down to hover over her, and teased her, playing with her glistening folds. When the head of his cock grazed over her sensitive nub, she spasmed at the contact. As she gasped loudly, his face met hers once again in a smash of lips. His hand gripping his thickness, he prodded gently against her sopping entrance, intent on tormenting her more. "You make the _best_ noises…" he murmured against her lips. The smirk that stretched across his handsome face, the mischievous glint in his tumultuous grey-blue eyes was enough to tell her that he very much enjoyed it.

However, she was having none of that. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and quickly wrapped her legs around him; locking her ankles behind his ass, she roughly pulled him towards her. "Fuck me before I flip you over and do it for you," she growled up at him, her arms snaking up and around his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin in what was possibly a warning. She licked a spot beneath his ear and bit down on his neck.

"Bossy." He grunted and slowly sank into her damp heat. " _Fucking hell, you're tight._ " He hissed into her hair, rocking his pelvis as he ground himself deeper into her. Her lips smacked when her teeth let go of his skin, but there was no time to admire the deep red mark she left; the moan spilling from her was deep and guttural. Loud enough that it reverberated off the walls of his bedroom and filled his chest with fire. His biceps were tense as he held himself above her. Dragging himself almost fully out of her he pushed back in, heavy and thick. Stretching her, forcing her body deeper into the plush mattress.

Satin - she felt like satin, and silk, and velvet against him, around him. Withdrawing and flexing, he snapped his hips faster than before. She threw her head back, the long column of her neck exposed to him, red bite marks peppering her skin. She cried out as he continued to pump into her, " _Good fucking gods,_ yeeeessss!" Her eyes rolling back in her skull, Hermione gripped his shoulders tighter, her nails leaving welts in the muscles. Instead of lifting her hips up to meet his, she savored just letting him fill her. The deep thrusting of his cock into her over and over had her racing towards bliss once again. She squeezed around him, relishing in the way he panted into her ear. The groans forcing their way past his lips made her choice for her as she could deny her want no longer, and she raised her hips to meet his in a smash of sweat soaked skin.

Moaning and writhing beneath him, she clung to his body as he set a furious pace. Burying his cock within her, his speed making the moans bounce out of her. His feral grunts, and the drag of his teeth across her throat had her arching her back, pressing herself closer to him. The poke of her sensitive nipples against his bare chest was electric. She'd remember this encounter for years. Using all her willpower not to add the name Draco to her litany of how properly she was being fucked into this mattress. Inspired by her fantasy, she ground her cunt roughly against him. "Yes-yes-yes-harder- _harderrr_ -" She buried her face once again in his neck, her teeth finding his pulse, she squealed into his flesh as he continued to rail her.

Draco shifted their angle just a tad and was rewarded with the fluttering of her inner walls and the shrieks of her impending orgasm. He grabbed one of her calves from around his waist and pulled it up so her leg rested on his shoulder and she was obscenely open to him. The new position drove him deeper. She trembled as she clung to him, rolling her hips to meet his in a merciless race to reach that edge and fling herself off it. With unrelenting force he pistoned his hips, impaling her soundly with each thrust.

He wasn't sure he could last much longer, and he could feel her tightening around him. He knew she was close, so close, and he wanted to see her come undone one last time before he did. He leaned up and back from her and her nails dug roughly down his back as he did, leaving angry red marks in their wake. He groaned and then pulled her other leg to rest on top his shoulder. Folding her in half as he leaned back down to rest his weight on his hands, he sunk his throbbing cock into her dripping core. She squirmed beneath him as best she could. Bent like this she felt so much more exposed. Cold, open air caressed the hard nub of her clit. She fucking loved it.

At first he thrust into her madly, like a man possessed. She regained her anchor as her nails dug into the firm muscles of his ass. Then his movements became more erratic but no less forceful as he drove her into his bed, their joint moans echoing in his large bedroom. His eyes focused on the incredible bounce of her breasts, and then down to where they were joined. Reaching out quickly he began to pluck and expertly roll her nub with his fingers. He continued to slam into her, her moaning reaching a pitch that made him thrum with satisfaction. "I'm gonna- _oh god_ -oh fuck meeee!" She bucked wildly, grinding her pelvis into his. "Yes-yes-yeeEESSSSS!" Her words morphing into a loud screech that soon died on her lips.

"Come all over my cock, you sweet thing," he growled, his voice deeper and gruff with his request. She tensed beneath him, her toes curling, her fingers grasping tightly onto wherever she could reach on him. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, back arching almost painfully off the mattress. He continued to flick and press his fingertip against her nub, fucking her as hard as he was able, seeking to reach that same crest she was riding out.

She continued to gently buck her hips against his as if her body was incapable of rocking against him harder than this while she came, she was desperate to prolong her pleasure. The velvet walls of her pussy clamped around him in such a exquisitely tight way that he couldn't help himself any longer. He could feel his release coming with the ache that hung beneath his cock. But watching her explode around him, watching her shatter beneath him was a beauty he wished he could relive forever. If only this was Hermione…

His cock twitched inside her, begging for his own relief. He removed his fingers from her glistening pussy and grabbed bruisingly tight to her hips. Eyes screwed shut, Draco thrust harder and harder, that great fire burning in the pit of his belly. With a loud roar that would have made any lion proud, he threw his head back and spent himself within her. His hips shuddering to a stop, he slowly withdrew from her and rolled onto his back. His breathing was coming in fast pants. He blew a strand of hair out of his face,elation written all over his body.

With slight confusion he raised his head to glance to his left. He had been expecting to hear her breathing as quickly as he was with that work out. He smiled softly at her closed eyes and her even, deep breathing. "Guess I win that bet," he murmured into the now quiet room. Wrapping his arm around her he pulled her into his side, curling her body against his. Confident she was out cold -the copious amounts of alcohol helped with that- he waved his hand in what he thought was some impressive drunken wandless magic.

The blankets slithered their way up their naked bodies, the lights around them dimmed until they were off. With one last glance in the darkness at the curly-haired brunette in his arms, he smiled. Sure, it wasn't Granger, the witch of his dreams, but Merlin if he didn't want to see her again whether she was Muggle or not. These were things for Tomorrow-Draco to deal with, though. Like that hangover. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and stroked his hand over her messy hair before he, too, succumbed to sleep.

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Sunday morning dawned bright and glorious a few hours previously and on the other side of the thick dark curtains. From deep within the bowels of the small clutch purse, a cell phone rang. The clutch lay forgotten, dropped carelessly on the floor nearby to where Hermione had shed her knickers against a front closet. Due to a lovely little charm she had invented, the ringing of her phone coincided with the steady vibration of the gold bangles around her wrist, which she'd conveniently pressed to her cheek in sleep.

Groggily she opened her eyes, the buzzing of her bracelet finally waking her up. She was mindless to the indents the metal left in her face from hours of sleep, more concerned with the sight that greeted her first thing this morning. With his back to her was the deliciously handsome blond man she'd gone home with from _The Melting Pot_ last night. She focused on the angry red stripes her nails had gifted the man with. She smirked proudly as she gingerly sat up, head already starting to pound with a headache. She wobbled from the bed and decided not to wake him.

She hurried from his bedroom and, thanks to the open concept of his large -penthouse, she reminded herself- home, was quickly able to find first her dress and then shoes. She shimmied into the wrinkled maroon dress and hastily pulled up the zipper. She followed the muted sound of her ringtone to the front hall. Grabbing her clutch and her discarded knickers (which she stuffed into her clutch), she was almost to the lift doors when a thought crossed her mind. She definitely wouldn't mind doing this again.

Sneaking back into his bedroom, her tall heels hanging from her fingers so she wouldn't make any noise, she looking down at his sleeping face. Last night was- well, she had no adequate words for just how much she had enjoyed herself. Plenty of fuel for her lonelier nights, she agreed with her drunken assessment. She left a folded scrap of paper on his night side table and then left his flat.

Slipping her ankle-breaking shoes on her feet, raising her height once more, she was eternally grateful for the cushioning charms she'd laid into them. She spent the rest of the ride down searching for her phone in her purse, thankful she had the lift to herself. With a sleepy crow of victory she pulled the small rectangle of Muggle technology from the depths of her clutch. "Good Godric…" She murmured reading the time on the screen. It was almost 10 am! She'd meant to get up hours ago!

Flicking it open, she answered her ringing phone just as the tall metallic doors slid open. She stepped out into the lobby. "Hey! Yeah, yeah, good morning to you, too. I woke up late." Smiling brightly at the doorman who held the thick glass door open for her and nodding her head in both greeting and goodbye, she donned a pair of sunglasses pulled from her clutch and stepped out into the bright mid-morning light of London.

Her voice had a melodic, near to laughing sound to it as she spoke into her phone. The sun glinted off her hair as she crossed the street. "I'll be there soon! Don't get your knickers in a twist, Harry! I'm sure whatever Luna has to say is just as strange and unusual as always. How was your night?" She was grinning smugly. "No big surprise." Hermione stepped discreetly into an alleyway away from prying eyes, and after hanging up on an embarrassed babbling Harry Potter, she disapparated with a _crack_. There was absolutely no way to remove the smile from her face, or the unshakable thought of ' _best decision ever_ '. Nothing, and no one could ruin her day.

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Not five minutes after his lift doors shut, Draco slowly woke. Eyes closed, he rolled over in bed, his cock hard and eager for a repeat of last night's events. His hand searched for the warm sleeping body that should be on the other side of his bed but found nothing. The blankets were still warm, though, evidence that last night's escapades were indeed reality. His eyes opened tiredly. She was gone. It was probably for the best, no matter how put out it made him.

He remembered curly chestnut brown hair, warm amber eyes. A delectable body, and such a filthy mouth. She was a perfect ringer for his schoolboy crush. Hell, she was even wearing the House colors. Maroon and gold. He just hoped that he hadn't slipped and actually called out the name on his mind. He was pretty sure he hadn't, but you never really know, especially with as much as he'd had to drink.

Groaning as the hangover he'd been dreading started to catch up with him, he swung his legs over the side of his bed, intent of getting some hangover potion from his medicine cabinet, when his eyes caught sight of the scrap of paper on his night stand. ' _To Blondie'_ it read, scrawled in a feminine but sure hand. He grinned, happiness blossoming in his chest. She wanted to see him again, or at least hadn't left without some sort of 'hey, thanks for the sex'.

His fingers grasped the paper and unfolded the note, eager to see if maybe she'd left her name and her number. His heart stopped, his breath caught in his throat. His brain refused to continue functioning. His entire world slammed to a staggering halt around him. _No_. No, this wasn't allowed. Life was good; it wasn't supposed to fuck with him anymore. He read over the note a second time. A third, and a fourth. Each time it was clearer and clearer that he knew this curled scrawl.

"Fuck me."

 _I had a fantastic time last night,_

 _let's do this again._

 _07235897441_

 _Hermione_

* * *

 **Should I continue? Or leave it as is?**

 **If you'd like me to expand this please let me know in the reviews.**


	2. A Pinch of Risque

**A/N:** _Sorry dear Readers, I know this took forever and a day to get out, but real life is a horrid bitch sometimes. Hope you enjoy :)_

 **Chapter 2 - A Pinch of Risque**

* * *

He sat frozen on his bed, legs swung over the side in anticipation of getting up. His eyes fixed on the note held loosely in his hand. He felt heavy, like his limbs were all asleep, dead weight. Unable to move, his thoughts floundered. Buzzing around in his head, no particular order at all.

Unable to fully process the words written neatly on the scrap of paper. The note left behind by the woman he'd brought home last night from _The Melting Pot_. A beautiful, leggy, brunette _Muggle_ woman in a tight red dress. Who, as it seems, turned out not to be a Muggle at all, but a Muggle-born.

Shit. Fuck. Merlin and Morgana, Circe, Hecate, The Founders and anyone else who wanted a piece, _damn him!_ What the hell was he going to do?! His brain felt overloaded, his body merely a shell as he internally threw himself against the walls of his mind. Shock, panic, and elation laced with an underlying fear that it'd all been a dream. Though, given how stiff and sore his muscles were helped to prove it was not.

His head pounded with the hangover Drunk-Draco had been _so_ kind to leave him with. This was way too much brain function for this early, and after so much whiskey. Thank something for the curtains being closed. ' _What fucking time is it anyways…'_ His wand was around here somewhere...

With groggy effort he put the note back on his nightstand. Well, whatever he was going to do about just how royally he'd fucked up, it was going to be done once he'd taken some of the hangover potion that was in his bathroom cabinet. Then he'd find his wand; it was probably still in his pants. With luck he wouldn't have to leave the country, his mother would be furious if he left again before visiting her.

Dredging up the strength to move his legs, Draco slowly stood up from the mattress. Joints in his back cracking as he stretched lethargically, bare feet chilled on the cold stone tile of his bedroom floor. Naked, he stumbled his way towards the door leading to his en suite bathroom.

When the light came on, a low pitiful groan came from within him. The sudden illumination felt like someone had ground sand into his eyeballs. He stumbled forwards holding an arm over his face.

Fuck him. Fuck life. Why, _why_ did he have so much whiskey? What the hell had he been celebrating? At least it was still the weekend. If Sunday counted as weekend. He lazily shut the bathroom door behind him with his foot.

He flipped off his reflection in the mirror, white-blond hair stood up in a vast disarray of uncoordinated mayhem. Opening the cabinet to his left, he rummaged through it knowing exactly what he was looking for. A slender turquoise bottle that would take away the hammering behind his eyes, and the churning of his stomach.

He spent a full minute searching through the cabinet, moving various glass bottles around before he shut it angrily, wincing at the loud sound. Who the hell goes out drinking and forgets to stock up on hangover potion? Draco-fucking-Malfoy, that's who.

Grumpily he turned away from the cabinet -stupid cabinet, not having what he needed- his eyes stopping on the walk-in shower across the room. Yes, a shower would help. Half of his mind contemplated shutting off that bright-as-sin light as he padded across the floor towards the large fixture that dominated the room. The built-in stone bench had been plenty useful. Definitely sturdy, he'd tested that many times since he'd moved in almost five years ago now.

Draco fiddled slowly with the taps on the wall, getting the temperature just right. Stepping into the spray, he pulled the frosted glass door shut behind him. The groan that left his mouth this time was a decidedly more satisfied one.

The hot water rained down on his stiff muscles, releasing tension. The heat and steam was already easing the throbbing ache of his head. It was bliss and comfort in the form of small droplets. He hummed happily, like a child.

Fuck it, that's what he'd do. He'd just stay here in the hot water for an hour or so. He didn't have anywhere important to be today. As far as he knew, anyways. Draco closed his eyes and carefully lowered himself to the floor of the shower and sat directly under the spray. Just letting the water fall on him, soothe him.

A small happy smile grew on his lips as he replayed last night's events again in his mind. The sweat-soaked skin, the teeth, the sounds she made when he'd lapped at her. His back still stung a bit, red lines of tender skin that her nails had left. It was undeniably one night to remember and definitely not a dream.

* * *

The penthouse lift dinged and the tall doors opened to allow entrance. Strappy leaf-green leather sandals didn't make much noise on the expensive ceramic tile of the entryway. They paired excellently with the lilac print sundress that fit as though it had been tailored to her shape.

Long, pin-straight black locks had been twisted into a messy but aesthetically pleasing braid that hung over one shoulder. Large sunglasses perched on top of her head as she walked into Draco's flat, a tray of take-out coffees in one hand, a ring of keys that obviously belonged to her in the other.

The first thing that caught her eye were all of the smudges on the mirrored doors of the front closet. A sculpted eyebrow rose, delicately painted lips upturned in a fast smirk. New plan in mind, she made an effort to keep her footsteps silent as she snuck towards the bedroom, coffee tray in hand. Behind her the lift doors slowly slid shut.

Her smirk transformed into a devious grin as she passed by the felled lamp beside the empty couch, a black men's dress shirt in a small pile nearby. No Blaise then; he must still be away on 'business'. She walked by Draco's boots and socks, his jeans crumpled on the ground; boxer shorts twisted in them as one of the trouser legs had been turned inside out.

She crept down the hallway, able to faintly hear the sound of water running. She stashed her keyring back into the small designer purse hanging off her shoulder, grabbed her wand from a sheath strapped to her thigh under her dress, and quietly opened the bedroom door. Hopeful that she hadn't been noticed yet.

Inching her way into the dark room with a swift glance around, the witch came to the conclusion that it was empty, and the previous occupants were in the shower. With a slight flick of her wand, the heavy curtains flew apart and were promptly tied open with thick twisted silver rope, the heavily tasseled ends swung back and forth. Ostentatious brat.

She snickered under her breath at the state of the large bed - sheets rumpled, blankets strewn, two pillows that had clearly been used. Stowing her wand back in the sheath, perceptive hazel eyes stopped on the scrap of paper left -oh so carelessly- on the night stand.

She swiftly moved through the room to the bedside and set the coffee tray down. Picking up the one meant for her she took a sip before reaching for the note. ' _I guess that's just Draco in the shower then…'_

Her gaze shot to her left, towards the closed bathroom door. The water was still running, she could tell it was over a body and not simply hitting the shower floor from how it sounded. She shook open the folded paper while taking another sip of her coffee.

She skimmed over the words, a knowing smile on her face. ' _Had a good time, blah blah blah, call me.'_ Everything about this was so obviously a one night stand. He'd been back for less than a day. What did he do? Get home from the Ministry and go drinking? Of course he did. She rolled her eyes and wondered what poor thing had fallen for his charms last night.

As she skimmed, something about the note felt a tiny bit off, but she only gave it half a thought really, paying more attention to her coffee, it needed more cream. Then, she read the numbers -her brow wrinkled; where had she seen them before- and finally the name written at the bottom.

A name signed in a very familiar curve. She'd learned after all, how to forge that particular witch's handwriting back in fourth year. She'd fondly remember the confusion and drama that had caused for many years to come. So this couldn't _possibly_ be just another girl who _happened_ to have the same name. Draco just didn't have that kind of luck.

Both her eyebrows shot up in realization, and she hastily swallowed the coffee in her mouth; before a loud, sweet sounding laugh burst forth from her lips, nearly echoing off the bedroom walls. The tone of true laughter very different from the cackling snicker she usually let slip in public.

Refolding the paper with one hand she quickly set the note back down on the nightstand along with her coffee, and laughed long and hard. Overjoyed at the massive twist that had just happened to life as she knew it.

Suddenly feeling the need to sit to regain her composure she looked again at the bed. She sure as hell wasn't going to sit on that! Who knew just _what_ had happened on it last night! Poor bed, it sure had seen some crazy shit over the years.

She dropped herself instead onto a plush cobalt-blue living chair situated near the bathroom door. Her posture was far from lady-like as she slouched, intent on having a few more giggles at her friend's expense before she stopped. It'd be better face-to-face anyways.

She completely silenced herself when her ears caught sounds coming from the bathroom other than the water running. "Fuck" _thud._ "Fuck" _thud._ "Fuck" _thud._ It was faint through the door, but she heard it all the same.

She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her finger-tips, careful not to smudge her eye makeup. Then got up to collect her coffee from the nightstand, a devilish smirk fixed firmly on her face.

Knowing that the bathroom door would be unlocked -the dunce thought he was home alone after all- she held her coffee in one hand, and quietly opened the door with the other. She took a quick sip as she eased the door open slowly, and steam instantly began pouring out of the rather large en suite.

The water falling in the shower was louder now, as was the mantra of "Fuck" _thud._ "Fuck" _thud._ "Fuck" _thud._ Now though, she could tell what the thud was. Draco was gently hitting his forehead on the tiled wall of the large shower.

What the hell was that about? He'd finally banged Granger, and from that note things had gone well! She rolled her eyes at Draco's theatrics. Why did men have to be so confusing? She sneered, the expression looked at home on her face. It was hot as hell in here; he must have the water on scalding. Trying to burn himself alive maybe?

She took another sip of her coffee, entirely amused with this whole situation. He hadn't stopped his mantra, so she could only assume he hadn't noticed her yet. A smirk grew on her lips as she leaned comfortably against the doorframe. Just looking around the spacious bathroom, taking in the multitude of silver and black fixtures. He got new faucets, she raised a brow, when had that happened? "Exciting night I take it?" she asked casually into the steamy bathroom.

The following high-pitched shriek that left Draco's mouth had her immediately bent over in harsh giggles, it was loud enough to echo. She managed to hold her coffee a safe distance away from her mirth. "Oh sweet Goddess! You're hilarious!" she managed through her laughter. "Don't slip and fall now!" She crowed with delight when she heard his feet falter on the wet tile flooring.

"What the fuck Pansy!? Why are you- _get out of my bathroom_! I'm naked in here!" Came rushed from the other side of the frosted glass doors, his voice part angry, part frustrated but mostly panicked.

She'd succeeded in her aim of startling him, as he'd jumped at the sudden sound of her voice in the mostly quiet seclusion of his bathroom where he'd been cursing his existence and love of whiskey. She'd come to his place with the sole intent of waking his ass up; making him jump out of his skin was an added bonus. Served him right; bastard ate all her muffins last time he'd come over. They'd still been warm from the oven!

Pansy laughed harder. "Of course you're naked in there, you dolt!" She shook her head a little, silver chandelier earrings chiming softly, wide smile on her face. It'd been too long since she'd been able to sneak up on him. He was always one step ahead when they were kids. She was a little put out that she hadn't caught him in bed, but this'd do for now. He had some making up to do. "Finish your moping and get some clothes on. I brought coffee."

She turned to leave the bathroom and made to close the door behind her. But heard his quietly muttered 'fuck you', no matter how hard he'd tried to cover it up. Arguably, not that well. She stopped dead and looked over her shoulder, the devious grin from earlier had returned.

She was going to leave it, not mention a thing until he'd got out of the shower. She could hear the hangover in his voice, had intended to be kind to her oldest friend. But then, then he had to go and do something like that.

So she happily yelled into the bathroom -taking advantage of the acoustics- "After that you can tell me _alllll_ about Granger! Ten Galleons says she's a screamer!" She closed the door with a snicker. Pleased with herself as the mantra started up again, but this time the word 'fuck' was replaced with 'kill me'.

* * *

With a small but audible _crack_ Hermione appeared at the Potter's, an Unplottable and secret-kept acreage somewhere in northern England. She stumbled for a moment while she found her bearings in the large meadow-like clearing.

In a single breath she'd travelled from sturdy cement and towering buildings to loamy grass and wildflowers, dense forest on all sides. A small dirt road behind her led into the trees, stretching a good three to four miles before it met the main road. The quiet was lovely, peaceful.

She smoothed her small strapless red dress, trying to pull it farther down her bare legs in an futile effort to cover them up. Her knickers were still in the depths of her small purse, having been shoved in there earlier this morning, so she felt a wee bit exposed.

Starting in the direction of the house, her footsteps were a tinge more wobbly than was usual. The large amount of alcohol she'd consumed last night - well, that was more than reason enough for the bright witch's shuffling.

Thank Merlin for the charms in her shoes or else she'd have tripped already, and with the way her head was acting, she might've just stayed there lying amongst the flowers. The butterflies could have her, breakfast be damned.

The blazing mid-morning sun of August comfortably warmed her bared skin. Truly it was a beautiful day, as if the weather were in the same mood as she -though definitely not as hungover. A pair of thick dark sunglasses covered her eyes, her mass of brown curls incredibly bushy -pins long forgotten- and the only description that could do it justice was sex-hair. She still felt tingly from 'getting better acquainted' with that blond Muggle man.

Putting one crimson pump in front of the other she slowly walked, steady as she could, until she reached a low two-door wooden gate. It creaked cheerfully open for her, allowing her inside. The beginnings of a gravel path led the way towards a house that was hidden deep within the enormous sprawling garden before her. Various colors and types of butterflies flitted about the multitude of flowers.

Her head however was pulsating with every step, every crunch of the small rocks underfoot. Her stomach had begun to complain about the abuse it had been put through, and the lack of food so far. Fingers weakly clutching her small purse, Hermione was trying to ignore the tiny knot of humiliation that was taking root inside her as she made her way through the gardens.

This was called 'The Walk of Shame' after all, and something she'd never really done before. Not for lack of trying, to be frank. At least it was worth it. A large happy grin split her face. The knot unraveled. Very worth it. Maybe he'd call. Or text, or something. ' _I wonder what his name is? I can't very well continue calling him Blondie.'_ She snickered quietly at the thought.

She passed by large bushes of blooming flowers and multiple trees that looked like they should belong in an orchard. All around her was an explosion of vivid colors and hues. The Potter's garden was a mix of both ordinary and magical plants. Flowers grew alongside vegetables and herbs.

They were generally harmless, but there were some dangerous ones 'thrown in for fun' according to Ginny, though she'd sold her mum a well-spun tale about gnome deterrent. Out of all her children Molly was quite pleased it was her daughter who'd taken a shine to gardening.

It was a gorgeous sanctuary behind a low wooden wall that surrounded most of the seemingly modest property. It had been well established over the four or so years the Potters had lived here. Harry took comfort in knowing it was definitely more impressive than any garden his Aunt Petunia had visited or could ever hope to dream up.

In the midst of the large lovingly-kept garden stood an old stone cottage with a two-story turret. It was the sort of cottage you'd expect to find in a fairy tale come to life: arched wooden doors with wrought iron fixtures, piled stone walls that held up a rounded dark-thatch roof, and peaked leaded glass windows framed by opened wooden shutters. It was a beautiful home and 'perfect for starting a family', as Molly had been generous enough to point out when they'd bought it.

A few feet behind the home was the treeline to the forest that hid the secluded cottage. The Potters tried their best to keep their private lives as private as possible. Reporters had quickly found the address to the first flat Harry and Ginny had bought together in the city, forcing them to move out within the same week they'd moved in. It was still a sore topic for Harry.

Concealed within that great forest behind the cottage was a secret, frequently used Quidditch pitch Ginny and Harry had built together from the ground up. Money had been no object when the newlyweds agreed on it; the enormous sums of money Harry had access to was being put to good use, other than doting on his friends, family and godson.

The resulting arguments over the fourteen months it took only served to further cement their love for each other instead of splinter it. Hermione had pointed out that usually couples would put small things together -like furniture- or renovate parts of their home, not design and construct their own private stadium. Harry had just waved that off with a grin. " _What's the point of being the The Chosen One, if I can't have a Quidditch pitch in my backyard?"_

Hermione willed her feet up the three low steps onto the porch, where two pairs of wellingtons stood side-by-side next to the front door. She rapped her knuckles against the wood door, grumbling at the loud sound that felt like it echoed in her skull. They knew she was here already, that the front garden gate had opened at all was a good sign. Besides, they were expecting her; she'd just got off the phone with Harry before Disapparating.

' _Why does the sun have to be so bright?'_ She made a disgruntled face, emoting her mental complaint while she waited for the door to open. Though she knew she was more than welcome to just walk in, she'd been raised to be polite, and as such would wait for her entry to be given by the home's owner.

Well, that and she didn't want to walk in on any 'morning activities'. Again. Something Hermione was quite keen on forgetting had ever happened at all, and in such high numbers. The months after the newly-wed couple had returned from their honeymoon had been nothing short of eye-opening.

After a few moments of waiting, the door opened to reveal Harry with bedhead to end all bedhead. He was clad only in loose black and grey plaid pajama bottoms, his favored round-framed glasses, a grin and a fair amount of red bite marks smattering his neck and bare chest.

Hermione raised a brow, then her sunglasses followed and were set atop her head in the large nest of chestnut curls. She laughed quietly in regards to her headache as she gave him a once-over, "Ate you alive, did they?" she teased while grinning at her long-time best friend, eyes squinting slightly in the morning light without her sunglasses.

The dark-haired young man huffed a laugh. "Good morning to you, too, Hermione. You're one to talk. Have you looked at _your_ neck yet? We match." Harry pointed at her with a lopsided grin. "Besides, I think I did most of the eating." He moved aside to let Hermione into the cottage he called home. She pulled the sunglasses off her head and dropped them into the depths of her clutch purse as she passed by him, stepping into the well-lit front hall.

A few family pictures hung on the walls; some Weasleys waved at her from both sides of the wide hallway, as did an enlarged portrait of Lily and James dressed in their wedding attire. Shedding her heels with a sigh of relief, Hermione set them down on the mat next to multiple other shoes that belonged to the Potters and the pair of blue pumps Luna had worn last night.

Harry shut the front door, bottle-green eyes glinting with mischief as he turned around to look at her properly. "Is this the part where I say _,_ ' _young lady, where have you been all night_?'" He deepened his tone to sound like a disapproving father and crossed his arms over his bare chest. "I'd think it's fairly obvious with how you're walking." He snickered, unable to keep the grin off his face.

She swatted his arm. "Goodness Harry! You're crude when you're this happy." Her face was bright with a smile, though it was a slight mess of slept-in makeup. Harry grinned at her and led the way towards the kitchen, an obvious bounce in his step. She could already smell bacon sizzling in a pan and freshly baked bread. A contented humming noise came from the back of her throat as she inhaled the delicious scent.

Breakfast sounded like a wonderful idea right now; maybe it'd help her stomach. It growled loudly as if in response. She put a hand over it and smiled sheepishly at Harry, who'd looked over his shoulder in confusion. "For a second there, I thought you'd brought Crookshanks with you." He snickered at her narrowed eyes.

The pair walked through a large sitting room towards the back of the house where there was a decent-sized kitchen. Ginny, like her mother, was a natural when it came to baking and cooking, and Harry had honed some of the skills forced on him in his childhood. More often than not there'd be fresh cookies or some other pastry to be snacked on sitting on the counters.

The sitting room they passed through was decorated with various Hogwarts and Quidditch memorabilia. It looked like a more personalized version of the Gryffindor common room, with comfy-looking red couches, a couple of wingback chairs, and bookshelves that held more knick-knacks than books.

Harry's old Hogwarts trunk served as the coffee table. The walls were home to many photos -both magical and not- of friends and family, and a few paintings here and there of beautiful scenery. A pair of broomsticks hung crossed above the stone mantle of the fireplace, where moving photos of Harry and Ginny's wedding day were displayed in beautiful hand-carved wooden frames.

Those were new; Hermione made a note to ask about them later. With Harry's back facing her she snickered at the new sight of a few more bite marks that peeked from just over the top of his pajama bottoms. They'd really got him all over, "My god, just what did they _do_ to you?" She mumbled it to herself more than asked the question of Harry.

Harry looked over his shoulder, eyes still twinkling, he heard her. "You wanna know what they _did_ to me?" He clucked his tongue, and shook his head slowly. "Poor choice of words 'Mione." he admonished her. The devilish grin that spread across his face was both attractive -there was no denying he'd filled out nicely- and, to her, reminiscent of days long since passed.

He pushed open the two-way swing door into the kitchen, attention still on her as he crossed the threshold. She could picture that same smile on a young Harry's face as they snuck around dark Hogwarts corridors. How far they'd come since then. He continued on before she could open her mouth to stop him. "Well, it all started when I went to pick them up-"

Harry could still quite clearly remember arriving outside the noisy Muggle club, where he'd quickly been man-handled by his wife. She and Luna had been waiting outside the club in the alley for him, making small-talk with Hermione's bouncer-friend by the doors. The brunette, however, had been nowhere in sight.

 _Drunk Ginny was a handsy Ginny, especially when it came to him. That he'd been expecting; the sex was pretty wicked after his wife had gone out with the girls. What he'd not been expecting was the small pale hand belonging to Luna expertly working at the belt on his trousers. Or Luna's explanation of Hermione's whereabouts - 'living the dream' she'd said- and the quick words whispered in his ear about how their plans had been altered, and had he ever been with two witches at once? Ginny had some intriguing ideas about the rest of their night._

Hermione entered the kitchen behind Harry in time to hear, "Harry James, if you finish that sentence, I'm hiding your broom," she paused, "or breaking it. Haven't decided yet." Ginny's groggy voice came slightly muffled from underneath a tangled curtain of red hair. The young Mrs. Potter was slumped forwards in her seat, head in her arms on the table, hiding as best she could from the light the streaming through her kitchen windows.

From what Hermione could tell, she was swimming in her husband's plush housecoat. His frame was so much larger than hers that Ginny looked draped in more soft blanket than robe. "Luna won't give me coffee," she whined. She didn't look up to greet her friend or husband, but revealed the rather large mug from under her arms, that had apparently so far remained empty.

"Ooh, a coffee would be fantastic right now." Hermione stretched her arms above her head, the soft pop of her shoulders was quite satisfying. Only after having the thought that her strapless dress might not have stayed in place, she swiftly glanced down to make sure it had.

Which it did, so far so good. No breasts at the breakfast table was a decent start. On the far side of the kitchen swaying side to side, humming to herself was the source of the mouth-watering smell of breakfast.

"It's Luna, Gin. She's got her reasons. You didn't question her last-" Harry was interrupted by having to catch a pepper shaker that had been haphazardly thrown in his direction by his wife. He grinned at her amused, smug about his reflexes. Hermione just shook her head, having given up long ago trying to understand their relationship.

Across the kitchen Luna stood barefoot in front of the stove-top, a spatula in one hand, her wand in the other. Her long hair was loose and swayed with her, while mostly covering her back, though her arms were bare. The frying pan before her was filled with thick strips of cooking bacon, a loaf of bread was rising in the oven by her shins.

To her right on the countertop was a large serving dish piled high with steaming french toast, a stasis charm shimmered overtop it in a small pale pink dome. Luna spun around at the sound of Hermione's voice, blonde hair catching the light from the nearby window.

"Hermione! Good morning!" The former-Ravenclaw was extremely cheery. Hermione's eyes widened, eyebrows raising. Luna was wearing what looked like a pair of Ginny's sweat-pants -the word _Harpy_ in script up the side of one leg- as well as one of Ginny's aprons. A full one that looped around the neck, covered the chest and tied behind the waist.

Thank Merlin for that! As the apron was the only thing, other than the pilfered sweat-pants Luna seemed to be wearing right now. So much for no breasts at the breakfast table. "Sit down, you've had a long night! I put a cushion on your chair." The blonde offered her a bright smile, pointed at the table with the spatula then spun twice in a full circle, before attending to her cooking.

Hermione sighed good-naturedly, some things never change. "Thanks Luna." Looks like it was a good night all around. But the morning, well, that was still up for debate. Especially where Ginny was concerned. Hermione smiled weakly at her friend as she sat down across from Ginny at the table. "I told you, tequila is dangerous."

She was feeling the proof herself, as she set her clutch down beside her own empty mug and raised her hands to rub fingertips into her temples. Her head ached, the sun too bright, even the snap and crackle of the cooking bacon was grating. Thankful that she'd slept in, she was sure it would have been much worse earlier. This cushion was actually quite comfortable though.

"Shut up." was the muffled reply, paired with the slow movement of Ginny turning her wrist and raising her middle finger in Hermione's direction. "All your fault…" Her hand dropped back to the table with a small thump, and the redhead groaned as if in pain.

Harry looked at his grumpy wife lovingly, a smile on his face. "She was still sleeping when I called you." He explained to Hermione as he set the pepper shaker back down with the rest of the condiments, then sat at the table beside Ginny and started to rub her back in small soothing circles.

The wooden dining table was in the center of the kitchen, and had been set for the four of them; an empty mug, some cutlery and a plate sat in front each of their chairs. "I'm not surprised though; she must have worn herself out after last night. Great work-out." Harry was snickering again as he patted her on the head. Ginny was mumbling beneath her hair, something about murder, pain and coffee.

Hermione heard the word coffee again and perked up a little. "Coffee, _please_. And if anyone has a hangover potion, I'll love you forever." She was debating whether or not to lay her head down like Ginny had. Her headache was getting worse by the second.

She was hardly expecting Ginny to shoot up straight in her seat and proclaim loudly to the kitchen, "Why doesn't anyone have any hangover potion?!" A tiny almost-sob escaped her mouth before she put her head back down on her arms, groaning. "No more… Ever."

Harry resumed rubbing her back and looked over at Hermione with a sheepish smile.

"Uh yeah, we're kinda out. See... uh, well, Seamus, Ron and I-" He stammered a bit and Hermione held up her hand to stop him there.

"I'm nearly positive that I don't care." Hermione grabbed her mug and fiddled with the handle. Harry sighed, intelligently knowing now was not the time for this conversation or _any_ conversation that had to do with Ron. "What I _do_ want to know is this news you said Luna has. And when the apothecary opens, because my brain is trying to kill me." She said as she spun her mug around slowly on the table. "It's working…" she mumbled at the empty ceramic.

Luna walked over -a spring in her step- and set the serving dish of freshly cooked bacon and french toast in the middle of the table. As she bent over, Hermione got a startling view down the front of her apron. Her mouth snapped shut and she looked down quickly, averting her eyes.

Harry was still trying to comfort Ginny when Luna, instead of sitting down at the table with them, skipped out of the kitchen without a word, still humming whatever tune she was before as she pushed open the swinging door into the sitting room.

Harry and Hermione locked eyes and shared a shrug. Then he started to fill a plate for himself and his wife while Hermione began to pile bacon onto hers. As the door swung back and forth they heard the roar of the floo in the other room being activated, and Luna almost singing merrily into the green flames, " _Longbottom Hall."_

"How is she so cheery? She drank like a fish last night," Hermione murmured to no one in particular as she added french toast to her plate.

Moments later they heard Neville's voice. " _Morning Harry, little earl- Luna?"_ the voice sounded surprised, " _What are you doing at Har- you know what, I don't even want to know."_ He sighed; it sounded like the embers hissing in the fireplace.

Luna took everything in stride, " _Good morning Neville! I hope your Tauven flowers are doing well. They need to be watered soon, if I remember right."_ She rocked back and forth on her heels, hands clasped behind her back, bright smile still fixed to her face. " _As to the what, I'm making coffee actually."_

Harry and Hermione had both stopped eating to listen in on the conversation taking place in the living room; the door had closed, so they almost had to strain to hear. Hermione was mostly listening because she heard the world coffee again. Harry was just curious. Ginny, however, was too hungover to care about much and just wanted the world to stop moving.

" _I'm very sorry to have bothered you so early, and I promise I'll pay you later. My wallet is somewhere upstairs with my knickers. Unless it moved."_ She tapped her index finger on the tip of her nose, and looked curiously in the direction of the staircase as if it might hop down them. " _But I'd like to purchase some of that hangover powder you've invented."_ She returned her attention to the face in the fire. " _The vanilla one, please."_ She smiled serenely.

Stuttering came from the fireplace, " _Wha- Luna, how did - how do you know about that?"_ he paused, " _Never mind."_ There was another sigh, " _Why, why do you even question her Neville?"_ the head in the emerald flames asked himself. " _Give me a minute, Luna."_ He sounded slightly defeated.

Hermione looked at Harry, "Vanilla hangover powder? What?" The raven-haired man shrugged, his expression telling her he knew as much as she did. He chewed on a piece of bacon, a thoughtful look growing on his face.

"Dunno. It's Luna, though, right? And Neville invented it, so…" Suddenly a white-faced Ginny sat up from beside Harry and rushed out of the kitchen, her hands covering her mouth. "Uh oh…" Harry frowned at his wife's retreating figure. He threw a half-hearted glare Hermione's way. "Tequila, you said?" The brunette didn't reply, just grinned and ate some of her breakfast.

Luna walked back into the kitchen with a small fabric bag in her hand. She'd started humming again, though the tune had changed. "There's a list actually." She inserted herself into the conversation as if she'd never left the kitchen. "Tequila's hardly the beginning. Next time we should do it alphabetically." She danced her way across the kitchen towards the coffee maker, tossing the small bag between her hands. She pressed a few buttons on the Muggle machine. It quickly came to life and began the process of producing the much-needed caffeine.

She started recalling said list, "Goldschlager, rum, whiskey, schnapps, vodka, a few of those mixed drinks, I'm sure there were more. I know I had some brandy." She set the bag on the counter and began to braid a small section of her hair while she waited on the coffee to finish. "We did a lot of shots. Oh! And Hermione made a wonderful play on words about Gin and gin." She smiled at them over her shoulder, her wand sticking out from a side pocket of the pilfered sweat pants. There definitely weren't any knickers underneath.

Harry looked dumbfounded. "How in the hell was she still coherent when I picked you two up last night?" He looked over at the empty seat Ginny had previously been occupying, mouth hanging open slightly. "Now I'm surprised she didn't just pass out as soon as we got home…"

Hermione snorted into her bacon. "I'd thought that was going to happen, to be honest. Definitely proved me wrong." She waved her fork at Harry's torso, bringing back up all the dark red marks that covered a lot of him. "Or was that Luna?" she smirked, then looked in Luna's direction.

The blonde was bent over a little rummaging in the cutlery drawer, though she had her wand pointed at the now whirring and sparkling coffee maker. Had it always sparkled? Hermione shrugged off the half-thought, and concentrated instead on the delicious smell of coffee that wafted across the kitchen.

Harry answered her little jab despite the slight blush creeping up his cheeks. "Luna was busy." He shoveled a large forkful of french toast into his mouth. Hermione looked over at him quickly and snickered at first, then quickly grimaced in pain and held the side of her head.

Zig-zagging back over to the table, Luna came bearing a full carafe of steaming fresh coffee in one hand, the small bag and a tablespoon in the other.

The smell must have roused Ginny, because she came back through the swinging door just as Luna started spooning some of the powder into the mug beside Ginny's plate. "Feeling better?" she asked the redhead. She added in Harry's direction, "I may have accidentally charmed your coffee maker. If it starts singing around four pm, please let me know." She smiled, and Harry just shook his head amused.

Ginny switched out Harry's houserobe for some shorts and a tank top. She sat back down and was giving her mug an excited look, near bouncing in anticipation as Luna poured coffee into her waiting mug. "Yes, coffee, oh sweet merciful Merlin, thank you. _Coffee_." She looked better than she had before; the color had returned to her face. She must have felt better, too, now that she was mostly dressed instead of draped in the large robe, which only made Hermione wonder if she had been wearing anything at all underneath it before.

Luna shook her hips in time with the clinking of the spoon on the mug as she stirred in the powder, humming her small tune. Once Luna had finished and moved on, the redhead's hands instantly wrapped around the steaming mug.

Hermione was doing her best to pay attention to her breakfast rather than the drape of Luna's apron. Why did that woman have to be so well endowed and shameless! The song she was humming was sparking memories from the previous night. A blush rose up her cheeks, _better acquainted_ indeed.

Luna did the same for both Hermione's mug and her own, spooning in the powder and then filling it with coffee. "First mug, no sugar, cream or milk. It'll discombobulate the powder," she advised and looked pointedly at Ginny, who'd reached for the sugar bowl. Pouring Harry's last and withholding the powder from his, Luna then spun around once more to put the carafe back.

Hermione let out a small relieved sigh under her breath as Luna's body moved away. She really needed to put a shirt on. It was distracting, all that pale skin and blonde hair. It made her mind travel, not that she really needed any more help. Her overactive imagination and stellar memory -despite the alcohol- were doing that just fine. Especially if Luna kept on humming songs that'd been playing last night at the club.

Harry, who hadn't indulged last night was free to put whatever he wanted into his coffee. He grinned smugly at Ginny as he spooned sugar slowly into his steaming mug. He knew all too well that she liked some coffee with her sugar, and Luna's prescription was no doubt messing with her morning ritual. Across the table he watched Hermione groan in delight the moment her mug reached her lips.

Ginny glared over her left shoulder at Harry and growled, "I will make you eat the whole damn bowl, Potter. Spoon, too." Her mood instantly changed in a reaction similar to Hermione's when she took her first sip. Now Ginny wasn't paying any attention to her husband; she had eyes only for the vanilla-flavored coffee that would hopefully make her feel better. It smelled fine, tasted fine. Trust in Luna, right?

Harry was chuckling at them both through a mouthful of bacon. "So hang over powder? Is it working yet?" He looked from his wife, who was petting the side of her mug affectionately as she sipped from it, to Hermione, who had yet to stop drinking from hers.

Luna sat down on Hermione's right across from Harry, still looking as though she didn't need any herself. Hermione was nodding slowly in answer to Harry as she drank. The humming sound she made was a distinct yes. "What does it taste like?" He asked with a curious tone.

Luna began using her fork to cut up her french toast, then speared it with her knife before eating it. Harry watched her for a moment, fascinated, before returning his attention to Hermione.

She finally stopped and licked her lips before replying, "Like a vanilla cappuccino that's making my headache just melt away." Hermione sighed happily as she set down her nearly empty mug beside her plate. "Thank you very much, Luna. Definitely needed that." She turned to smile at the blonde next to her, who was maneuvering a piece of french toast into her mouth via knife.

Luna's lips upturned in a grin as she chewed and swallowed. "Speaking of getting what you needed, did you bite him like I asked?" Hermione's brows rose high, startled at the question. Ginny grinned toothily across the table at her friends, and Harry spluttered into his coffee.

"I need to know; it's important to me that you bit him." She looked Hermione dead in the eyes, utterly serious. Her knife and fork hovered over her plate, waiting. With a red tinged face Hermione stuck her tongue out childishly at her and quickly looked away. Luna grinned. "I'll take that as a yes." She resumed eating her breakfast.

Ginny spared a quick glance for her husband before her eyes returned to Hermione. "Blondie, right?" she sounded uncertain. "Didn't I yell something about ass?" She looked down at her bacon like it might have the answer. "I think it was Blondie. Or did I call you Blondie?" she mused, gaze flicking for a second over at Luna. Trying to remember details wasn't as easy for her.

Harry raised a brow. " _Blondie_?" His tone immediately took on a teasing lilt. "Hermione Granger, did you go home with a blond man last night?" He grinned across the table at the now glowering brunette. "Was he cute? _Oooh_ did he have muscles?" Harry asked in a high pitched voice, elbows on the table, hands under his chin batting his lashes at her.

A small square of french toast bounced off his forehead, causing Ginny to snicker. "I'll thank you not to tease me, Mister _three-way-with-my-wife-and-one-of-her-best-friends_!" Hermione huffed out in a rush before picking her coffee back up to finish it, clearly done with that conversation.

Ginny put down her fork with a clang, laughing at her friend. "Oh Mione! You make it sound like you're put out about not being included!" She threw her head back and laughed harder.

Luna swallowed her bite, "If we're looking for special occasions I think Hermione's birthday is next. September, right?" She smiled at the brunette as though she'd been helpful.

Hermione's face took on a very pink-like quality, and she was almost sure she was blushing head to toe. "I think I'm quite alright. Thank-you," she squeaked into her coffee mug, trying to hide her face from the table. She knew Ginny was joking, but Luna was more than serious in the offer.

The blonde piped up over Ginny's tapering giggles, "You bit him, yes?" At Hermione's nod, Luna continued her query, "So, what does he taste like?" Hermione tilted her head to actually give it some thought, but Luna continued, "I've always been under the impression he'd be a bit minty." Harry started chuckling again. "But as you've had actual first-hand experience, I concluded you'd be the best to ask." She looked thoughtful for a split second. "Also no one else I've asked will tell me," she finished with a bright smile.

It took seconds for Hermione's mind to process the new information, but it certainly felt like an eternity. "Wait-what?" She blinked once, twice. " _ **Luna**_ , are you saying you know who he is?!" she asked desperately, trying her best not to externally freak out if the answer was yes. ' _If Luna knows him, then he's NOT a Muggle!'_

Harry was watching her reaction. Her eyes widening, posture straightening. The little manic look she got when she was about to bolt or start demanding things at wand-point.

' _That must mean he knew who I was! He knew exactly what he was doing! What have I done? Oh Godric, what if he was a reporter?! Please, please let this not get to the Prophet… I can see the headlines now! What if there are_ _ **pictures**_ _?!'_ On the outside Hermione was sitting stiffly in her chair, both hands clasped tightly around the handle of her fork. She looked like she'd just been told her entire career was in ruins.

Chin still resting on his hand, Harry kept his gaze on Hermione, an amused smile on his face. "I can hear you thinking from over here, 'Mione." He smiled calmly at her, years of practice with similar situations helping him. "I'm sure everything is fine. Nothing is going to happen. You can stop strangling the cutlery now." He reached across the table and grabbed her empty mug. "I'll get you more coffee. You," he pointed at her as got up from his seat, "calm your shit." Ginny was looking at him adoringly while he handled the well-known over-thinking of their friend.

Ginny turned to Luna, who'd resumed eating her breakfast in her unusual way, though it was obvious she was still waiting for Hermione's answer. Ginny intended to find out who this mystery man was, "So-" but she was cut off by Hermione's phone beeping loudly from inside the clutch purse beside her plate. This particular beep indicating she'd received a text message from an unknown sender. "Bloody hell, that's loud as fuck," Ginny commented blandly, eyes locked onto the clutch as if she could will away the sound.

Hermione jumped in her seat, startled out of her daze, and hurriedly started to scour through the depths of the small charmed bag for her phone. Just dumping it out on the table, would be disastrous. "Sorry! Sorry! I had it on really loud so I could hear it while we were at the club!" She spoke loudly over the beeping, which was only increasing in volume.

Harry winced as he finished pouring coffee into Hermione's mug, the beeping obviously starting to get to him. Luna continued to eat her breakfast as if nothing had happened at all, but her lips were quirked in a smile, and her blue eyes twinkled with barely restrained delight.

* * *

When Draco stumbled from his bedroom dressed in jeans and a navy blue t-shirt, he was met with rock music coming from his kitchen. He figured Pansy must have turned on the stereo that sat on the counter top. His penthouse had an open-floor concept, so when he entered the living room, he could see Pansy in the kitchen, opening various drawers and then closing them as she looked for something.

"Cutlery's in the top drawer to your right, Pans." He spoke flatly. The bright light coming from the floor to ceiling windows was killing him. Stupid fucking sun. "What are you doing, anyways?" He shuffled through the living room, and sat down none too gently on one of the stools at the island in the middle of his kitchen, his hand instantly reaching for the large take-away coffee that'd been bought for him. Pansy's was beside her purse on the island top near the seat next to his.

She found the drawer and pulled out two pairs of knives and forks. " _Well_ , since I happened to notice you have a hangover, I can only assume you're out of hangover potion _again_." She threw him an annoyed look over her shoulder. This occurred more often than it should in her opinion.

He had the decency to look slightly sheepish but started to defend himself. "I've only been home for-"

She cut him off and continued, "So, going out for brunch seemed like a bad idea. What with you looking like complete shit and all." Putting the cutlery down on the island, she waved her hand at his pale complexion and still damp hair with a teasing grin. "Being the kind-hearted and loving friend that I am," Draco started to snicker, but she continued, "I graciously decided to make you breakfast, you twat." She began looking through cupboards for plates but found only more food and glassware. She spun back around and glared at him. "Why did you move everything! I can't find a damn thing now!"

He grinned and drank deeply from his coffee prolonging his answer. "I felt I needed the change," he said imperiously, then smirked at her. "I also knew it'd piss you off. You were here more than your own place; admit it." He chuckled into his coffee before taking another sip. "Speaking of hangover potion, I'll buy you a new pair of shoes if you have any on you right now."

She flicked her wand at the oven; it opened, and a full muffin tin floated out and landed on heating pads on the counter. "Deal." She levitated the food from the pan onto a serving platter. She picked up the plates and set them down on the island, one in front of Draco the other to his immediate left for herself. Grabbing her coffee and taking a sip, she flicked her wand again, and the platter floated from the counter to the island and set itself down in front of them.

Pansy sat on the stool beside Draco, who simply tilted his head and was looking at 'breakfast' with a curious expression, as if he couldn't quite figure out what it was. She rolled her eyes, "It's scrambled eggs wrapped in bacon with cheese on top. Now shut up and eat it, or you're still buying me shoes for cooking for you _and_ you'll just have to find your own potion." She set down her wand and coffee, picked up her fork and put three of the egg muffins on her plate.

It was then he noticed the new pile of dishes in his kitchen sink. Draco sighed and muttered a terse thank you, before he started eating. He wasn't surprised that it was good; Pansy wasn't a fantastic cook, but it surely beat anything he could make.

He reminded himself to grab his own wand from where it had rolled underneath the couch. The two of them ate and sat in the comfortable silence of two people who have known each other a long time. The rock music Pansy had put on played in the background, he had the absent thought that Muggle music was incredibly better, or at least more diverse. His world sorely needed an update in that respect.

He was paying attention to unwrapping a strip of bacon from around the little egg muffin when Pansy gently nudged his shoulder with hers. "I missed you, you fucking prat." She said softly, staring straight ahead, refusing to look at him, and then slowly leaned her head down onto his shoulder while he chewed.

He leaned his head on top of hers staring at the same spot on the wall, just below his kitchen cabinets, a small and surprised smile on his face. "Missed you too, you utter bitch." Then he sat back up and grabbed his coffee, and she did the same.

Finishing off the last bite on her plate, Pansy pushed it forward and rested her elbows on the island top. She regarded Draco for a few seconds before she pulled a slender turquoise bottle from inside her purse. She set it on the island top as if to tease him, then slid it towards him.

He greedily took it, tore out the stopper, and hastily gulped down its entire contents. Once he'd swallowed he could feel it; his headache was gone, the roiling in his gut gone. Even the small aches and stiffness he hadn't realized he had were gone. He wiped his mouth with a napkin from a holder on the island. It was visibly apparent just how much better he felt.

She smiled happily at him. "Now," she drank some more off her coffee, "you have two minutes to tell me exactly what the _fuck_ happened last night, or so help me Salazar, I will hand deliver this to Theo myself." She pulled the note Hermione had written and left him out from underneath her purse, and waved it at him.

He gaped at her open-mouthed. He could have sworn that was still on his nightstand when he'd left his bedroom! "You have no reason to- why would you- Theo doesn't- he _knows_ that I- you wouldn't dare!" He nearly resembled a small child about to throw a tantrum, which was amusing coming from a man of his height and stature.

She grinned deviously. "What? Wouldn't dare give dear our Theodore proof that you've slept with the woman he's had goo-goo eyes for since the Yule Ball in fourth year? Or the woman he's been working so closely with for the last year and a half?"

Draco shot her a glare, went to retort, then changed tack. "Wait, Granger's in politics?" That didn't seem like her. When did that happen? He couldn't have been gone _that_ long.

She sighed, "You're such a moron, Draco. Really, do you not read anything other than those damn rune books?" She rolled her eyes again. "Granger's the Junior-Head of the International Magical Office of Law." His reaction was less than she'd hoped, so she continued, "You know, the advisers to the Minister and the Wizengamot, answers to the International Confederation of Wizards - they govern the fucking DMLE!"

The look she gave him only lasted a second, but she was clearly exasperated as recognition finally dawned on him. "I'm surprised you didn't know; it was international news when she was appointed." She looked at her manicure.

Her right ring fingernail was starting to chip, she'd need to get it fixed. "Or perhaps you were too busy with whatever you were doing, traipsing about looking for broken statues. In the fucking _jungle,_ of all places." She added as an afterthought, "How are you not tanned to hell? Or burnt?"

Draco groaned and rested his forehead beside his plate on the countertop. The cool touch of polished stone helping ease his growing irritation and, possibly, the disbelief (or was it denial) that so much had changed in his absence.

His voice was slightly muffled when he spoke. "I went to other places after the jungle. Would you please get to the point, Pans?" He sat up, sounding bored. "I'm getting old here. The fuck does this have to do with Theo? He doesn't even _have_ a job." She had to be pulling his leg; there was no way Granger had risen that high up so quickly though they did call her the Brightest Witch of this Age…

"Well, when you up and vanish to _Brazil_ for three years - yes Draco, I know more than just _jungle_. One of us actually talks to your mother." She smirked at his flabbergasted expression, "Anyways, after weeks of working together on some special project -he does actually have a job- Theo and Granger started getting cozy in the workplace." she grimaced.

"First name basis, lunch dates. He even gave her flowers on Valentine's day." She didn't see or perhaps ignored how uncomfortable Draco started to look. Maybe feeling he deserved some of it for just up and leaving the country without a word.

She continued, "' _Work friends'_ he says. Ha! Poor sod's fallen for her, I think. It's like one of those gaudy _Kestral Wynne_ romance novels Blaise loves so much." She snickered to herself. "And _you,"_ she tossed a crumpled up napkin at him; it bounced off his shoulder and rolled away on the floor _._ "You were nowhere to be found, no owl could reach you, no house elf, no nothing. For years! If it wasn't for your mum, I'd have thought you died somewhere."

She narrowed her eyes when he started making cutesy 'awwww' noises at her. "So, naturally Theo is under the assumption she's- what did you guys call it back at Hogwarts?" She tapped her finger on her painted bottom lip, "Ah, yes, _fair game_."

Draco snorted into what was left of his breakfast; a bit of remaining egg flew off his plate and hit the side of his take-out coffee. "Yes, because Theo is looking to settle down with some quill-pusher. War heroine or not." He shook his head in denial. "You know how he is just as well as I do. Different witch every other week. Sometimes two at a time."

He waved off Pansy's touting of Hermione's career. "Besides, whatever position Granger has now, it's probably just for Ministry publicity. She's a figurehead puppet at best, I assure you. She's smart yeah, I'll give her that. But she's not some genius fear-inspiring lawmaker. She's only twenty-four, for Merlin's sake."

He relaxed in the thought that Granger wasn't Theo's usual sort of woman. She didn't seem the type to sleep around. He conveniently ignored that he himself was proof that she, in fact, did. "She was always too goody-goody for Theo's tastes anyways. Sweet and innocent." But then his mind supplied just how ferally they had come together last night, and his doubts grew harder to ignore.

Pansy glowered at him. " _Sweet_? Not that she was ever sweet, but do you even comprehend the _type_ of woman she is? You've been gone for over three years Draco, _three_!" Her voice rising with her words, "A lot can happen in that span of time. People change! She's not some quill-pusher, or a puppet either. Have you listened to a damn word I've said?!" Pansy started to fiddle with the end of her braid as she took a calming breath, "She's definitely not the same little girl we used to torment at Hogwarts."

Pansy, for once in her life, looked serious. "She's got power you idiot, and she's ruthless. She's a political darling, with contacts everywhere. If you run, she can find you. Anywhere you hide, she can find you. Anywhere in the world! Maybe other dimensions and planes, who knows. Granger's always been a bit, let's go with curious…" She looked like she was close to grabbing his shoulders and shaking him.

"So why, _why_ on this damned rock did you think screwing the bushy-haired brunette _hours_ after you come back to Britain was any sort of a good fucking idea?!" She was breathing heavily, glaring at him and his stupid face. She quickly finished the last of her coffee to stop herself from more ranting.

Draco was looking pointedly at the remnants of the breakfast she'd made him. "I didn't know it was her." He narrowed his eyes, glaring at the plate as if it was at fault, irritated that she was making him tell her this. She'd find out somehow anyways, better now than later through gossip. "I thought she was a Muggle," he muttered, fully anticipating the uproarious laughter that spilled forth from Pansy.

The raven-haired young woman was actually holding her stomach as she laughed. "Oh! This just keeps getting better!" She tried to taper off her laughing by biting her lip, but failed when Draco then explained that he was almost sure Hermione hadn't known it was him either.

"I need to write this down!" she shrieked. "This is _gold,_ Draco! Blaise would give his left nut to be here right now!" Her laughter finally abated due more to her need to breath properly than Draco's glare. She patted his cheek condescendingly.

He swatted her hand away and flicked some egg at her from his plate. "Shut your face. You're not being helpful. Blaise would be on the floor swooning, and begging for details." He sighed and finished his coffee, biting the proverbial hex, "What the fuck do I do?"

Out of all of his closest friends, Pansy was the only female. One of his very first friends in fact. She knew him the best. Hell, he was pretty sure that Pansy knew about his crush on Granger, before Draco knew himself. She was brash, loud, confident, and honest to the point of brutality. She'd still know more about these matters than Theo and Blaise would. Maybe not Blaise.

Pansy gave him a cheeky grin, "Cheer from the rooftops? Steal one of those new Time-Turners and tell thirteen year old Draco it does get better. I don't know, maybe you could," she gasped and put a hand to her chest, "you could call her! Or text her! You can thank _Hermione_ for that one by the way, all the Muggle technology that's been introduced."

Draco got up from the island during her tirade and bent down to look for his wand. He was pretty sure it had rolled underneath the couch. He tried to ignore her, not that it had ever worked before.

"It does say 'fantastic time' on this. Must have made a good impression." Pansy held the note open in front of her as if for reference. "And she wants to see you again, that's a good sign right? Guess you didn't fuck up too bad, not telling her your name and all." She started snickering again. "Blondie."

Standing in the middle of his living room Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. If only he had his wand right now. "Pansy, you have to be one of _the_ most confusing people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I met Xenophilius Lovegood in the Amazon."

His facial expression was enough to tell her that was going to be another entertaining story. "So perhaps you could make up your bloody mind on whether my sleeping with Granger was a good idea or not." He looked slightly irritated as he straightened back up. His wand hadn't been there.

She sighed. "Okay, look, I'm not saying it was a _bad_ idea, kind of hilarious now that I know you didn't know it was her." She smirked, then returned to serious, "but think of it this way, this happens so soon after you return to Britain, after being gone for three, almost four years. Just poof, gone. Merlin knows where!"

He shot her a look. "Of course, some of us _know_ better," she continued, "but the reporters definitely don't. And Granger left Weasley -quite publically might I add- it was beautiful!" Her lips upturned in a grin when she noticed how pleased he looked at that bit of information. "But, it was almost three weeks on the dot after you vanished that she did it."

Pansy toyed with her empty cup. "For a little while there were even some rumours going around that one day Granger would just be gone, too. No doubt to meet up with the missing Malfoy heir. I'm pretty sure Weasley had a hand in those." Draco stopped dead in his wand-search. "Skeeter went wild with that. I guess you two have a lot of 'repressed sexual tension' that's been noticed." She shot him a smirk, "her words, not mine."

His gaze flitted about the floor, looking for his wand. "Yes, because you haven't said anything remotely similar." He deadpanned. "It'll be fine. No one else knows." He waved it off. "We met in a Muggle dance club, and she said she was…" He stopped looking, "out with friends. I saw her talking to them. Holy fuck." Draco sat down on the floor of his living room, utterly stunned at his realization. "That was Loony Lovegood and Potter's wife. Apparently I have a nice ass." His mouth hung open a bit and he blinked in confusion. How hadn't he put that together?

Pansy's eyebrows shot up into her hairline, and she was biting her bottom lip to keep from laughing again. Draco could hear her stifling her giggles though, and he turned his head slowly to look at her, "Go ahead, Pans." He looked shocked, eyes wide. What he was feeling was similar to the out-of-body experience he'd had whilst originally reading the note, just significantly less.

Louder than before, Pansy's sweet-sounding laughter echoed through the penthouse. Draco remained seated on the floor, still looking around slowly for his wand, while Pansy laughed and then once again subsided. "Draco, thank you, just _thank you_. This has been the best morning I've had in a long time!"

He found the crumpled up napkin she'd thrown at him earlier and tossed it back, hitting her in the nose. It didn't even phase her as she snickered at him from her stool at the island. "Try over by the arm chair." She pointed in its direction, a helpful smile on her face.

He nodded, got up from the floor, and slowly made his way towards the chair, looking everywhere as he went. Once Draco's back was turned, Pansy quickly grabbed her wand off the island top and muttered a quiet, " _Accio_ cell phone."

Luckily Draco stayed with his back turned to her and was looking in the opposite direction of the hallway, when his phone came soaring through the air from his bedroom. She snatched it mid-flight, nearly fumbling it before getting a good grip.

She hastily shoved the phone under her purse when Draco turned back around, "Nope. I'll be right back, just gonna see if I left it in my room." He muttered something about drunken wandless magic as he left the kitchen/living room.

She knew for certain his wand was under his still-discarded pants in the middle of the floor. Which he'd so far left alone. She'd checked earlier while making breakfast.

A sneaky little smile crossed Pansy's face as she pulled Draco's phone out from underneath her purse. Making it through the passcode easily enough, she quickly sent off a text to the number written on the note. She hadn't noticed she was cackling under her breath as she hit send.

Or that it was loud enough for Draco -who had come back into the kitchen- to hear. He quickly noticed his cell phone in her hands. The thing was stupidly expensive. Some wizard in Dubai had figured out how to make them work with magic; he could call a Floo if he wanted.

"Pansy Francesca Alora Parkinson!" he thundered. "The _**fuck**_ are you doing?!" He quickly snatched his phone from her grasp, looming over her at this unequal height.

She grinned triumphantly up at him from her stool. "You can tower over, and fail to intimidate me all you like, _Dragon_ ; I still can and will make you cry like a toddler without his stuffie." If there was one thing she'd never be afraid of, it was Draco. She could vividly remember what he looked like covered in pudding, being scolded by his mum. It had always been so much fun getting him into trouble.

"What did you DO Pansy!" He demanded, gripping his phone tightly with both hands. He held it to his chest as if to protect it from her, and glared at his oldest friend.

She half-shrugged with practiced nonchalance, "I simply did what I knew you'd be too griffin-shit to do." Pansy pointed at the cell phone in his hands. "I asked your dear Princess for a second date."

"I hate you."


End file.
